mm 


GIRI 


•&,,  ,/^v .,- 


1 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OB 

ISABEL  R.  GILLIS 


A   Little   Girl  in   Old   Chicago 


THE  "LITTLE  GIRL"  SERIES 


A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

HANNAH  ANN  ;  A  SEQUEL. 

A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  BOSTON. 

A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  PHILADELPHIA. 

A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  WASHINGTON. 

A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  NEW  ORLEANS. 

A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  DETROIT. 

A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  ST.  LOUIS. 

A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO. 


A    LITTLE    GIRL 
IN  OLD  CHICAGO 


BY 

AMANDA  M.  DOUGLAS 


Copyright,  1904, 
By  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 
Published  September,  1904 


PS 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER. 

I  THE  LITTLE  GIRL 

II  GETTING  DINNER 

III  THROUGH  THE  WINTER  .        .        . 

IV  A  POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE 

V  OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS         . 

VI  THEN  THE  UNCOMMON  .        .        . 

VII  FROM  THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE       . 

VIII  WITHOUT  NORMAN  .        . 

IX  WAS  EVER  LETTER  HALF  so  DEAR? 

X  A  WILD  RIDE 

XI  A  TIME  FOR  LOVE 

XII  NOT  MERRY,  BUT  WEDDING  BELLS 

XIII  A  SHADED  SIDE 

XIV  A  TURN  IN  THE  LANE 
XV  How  MUCH  WAS  LOVE 

XVI  HER  RIVALS     .       .       .      • 

XVII  POLLY 

XVIII  DAN          .       .        .       .      v       . 

XIX  How  NORMAN  CAME  HOME 

XX  THE  PASSING  OF  OLD  CHICAGO 


PAGE. 

i 

15 

.30 
44 

.61 
.85 
.  100 
117 
.130 

14? 
165 

.  179 
IQ4 
209 
224 
243 
262 

.276 
294 

.312 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  LITTLE  GIRL 

IT  is  one  of  the  compensations  of  Providence  that 
after  the  storm  and  stress  of  active  life  is  through,  one 
can  go  back  to  the  beautiful  world  of  memory  and 
live  over  the  earlier  joys  with  a  delight  not  experienced 
in  youth. 

So  the  time  I  first  saw  the  Little  Girl  is  one  of  the 
pictures  that  line  the  halls  of  remembrance,  softened, 
and  it  may  be  rendered  more  beautiful,  by  the  inter 
vening  years,  and  love. 

It  was  a  late  September  evening,  at  least  the  day 
had  waned.  All  the  west  still  held  the  peculiar  rich 
glow  of  a  magnificent  sunset  that  had  melted  now 
into  one  great  sheet  of  softened  tints,  with  no  one 
distinct  color  predominating,  and  changing  every  in 
stant.  Over  the  great  lake  it  dropped  iridescent  hues, 
and  even  the  river,  with  its  muddy  banks,  shimmered 
in  a  glorified  light.  And  I,  Norman  Hayne,  sat  idly 
outside  the  log  end  of  the  house,  that  was  our  real 
living  place,  though  the  frame  addition  had  been 
added,  for  we  had  long  ago  outgrown  the  other.  There 


2  A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

was  a  rude  porch  over  the  door,  where  the  Michigan 
rose  rioted  in  the  early  summer,  and  morning-glories 
later  on.  Beyond  this  was  a  bench  with  a  pail,  one  or 
two  basins  and  a  dishpan  piled  with  dishes,  where  my 
mother  would  presently  stand,  washing  up.  Various 
utensils  hung  from  the  edge  of  a  narrow  shelf,  a  gourd 
dipper  and  one  of  cocoanut.  Out  beyond,  on  the 
garden  fence,  was  the  churn  dasher  and  the  churn  on  a 
low  pole. 

Early  August  had  been  hot  and  dry,  then  had  fallen 
copious  rains  and  everything  had  taken  a  new  lease 
of  life.  I  was  looking  idly  over  to  the  eastward,  won 
dering  what  the  "States"  were  like,  though  it  would 
seem  from  the  influx  of  emigrants  and  their  tales  that 
they  held  every  variety  of  climate  and  productions 
known  to  the  world. 

I  watched  a  great  covered  wagon  lumbering  along, 
drawn  by  two  not  over  large  but  stocky  horses. 
In  a  vague  fashion  I  said  to  myself — "Some  one 
from  the  States."  It  had  not  the  air  of  a  near-by 
native. 

The  driver  jumped  down  with  a  loud  "whoa,"  and 
the  animals,  nothing  loth,  stood  still.  We  were  back 
perhaps  fifty  feet  from  the  road,  though  it  had  a  name 
as  a  street. 

Mother  came  out  just  as  the  man  walked  up  the 
path.  She  was  rather  stout,  somewhat  weather-beaten 
with  our  fierce  winds,  but  fresh  and  wholesome  look 
ing,  With  a  kindly  smile,  that  had  not  been  banished 
by  the  scoldings  she  had  found  necessary  to  use.  Her 
hair  was  a  soft  dun-colored  brown,  her  eyes  brown 


THE  LITTLE  GIRL  3 

also,  with  a  sort  of  twinkle  in  them  that  sometimes 
flashed  in  the  heat  of  anger. 

The  man  gave  his  faded  wool  hat  a  tug.  He.  was 
of  medium  height,  much  seamed  and  wrinkled  by  ex 
posure,  with  shrewd  blue  eyes,  rather  reddish  hair  and 
a  sparse  ragged  beard,  the  sort  of  man  who  would 
hardly  attract  a  second  look. 

"Ma'am,"  he  began,  in  a  respectful  tone,  "can  you 
tell  me  just  how  I  shall  find  the  Towner  place,  and  can 
I  reach  it  to-night?" 

"Well — "  mother  looked  over  westward — "I  can't 
say  I  should  advise  you  to  attempt  it.  It's  crost  the 
river.  An'  ther'  ain't  much  but  a  tumble-down  log 
hut.  Be  you  the  man  goin'  to  live  ther'?  Towner 
traded  off  the  place  an'  was  in  high  feather  'bout  his 
bargain." 

The  man  looked  rather  crestfallen.  "I  was  in  hopes 
I  could.  But  then  it's  good  to  be  so  near,"  with  a  sigh 
of  content  in  the  voice.  "There's  some  taverns  about, 
I  suppose,  though,  for  that  matter,  we  could  take 
another  night  in  the  wagon." 

"What  fambly  is  ther'?"  and  mother  peered  out 
rather  curiously. 

"Only  me  and  my  little  gal.  There's  such  big 
stories  told  about  Chicago." 

"An'  they're  comin'  out  the  little  end  of  the  horn," 
said  mother  with  a  short  laugh.  "You  can  hardly 
give  lots  away." 

The  man  stood  rather  uncertain. 

"See  here,"  began  mother,  who  was  hospitality 
itself,  "we  can  put  you  up  for  the  night.  S'pose  you 


4  A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

unhitch  and  take  a  bite  of  supper.  It's  tough  goin'  to 
a  strange  place  in  the  dark,  an'  a  tavern  ain't  jest  the 
place  for  a  little  gal.  Norme,  you  great  lazy  lout, 
stir  your  stumps,  and  show  the  way  to  the  barn. 
Bring  your  little  gal  in  here,  Mister.  I  declare  for  it, 
a  gal  is  quite  a  treat.  I've  five  boys  an'  I'm  countin'  on 
the  time  they  get  married  so's  I  can  see  a  petticoat 
around." 

"Do  I  come  up  here?" 

"Yes."  I  was  off  with  a  bound  and  began  to  turn 
the  tired  beasts  up  the  roadway.  Just  at  the  stoop  I 
paused. 

"I'm  mighty  obliged  to  you,"  he  began,  bowing 
to  mother.  "  'Tisn't  everybody  you  find  willing  to 
take  in  a  stranger.  But  I'm  going  to  stay  if  I  can 
squeeze  out  any  sort  of  a  living.  Times  are  hard 
everywhere.  Seems  as  though  the  bottom's  fallen  out 
of  everything." 

"When  the  bottom  falls  out  'er  Chicago  we  fill  it  in 
agen,"  returned  mother  with  a  heartsome  laugh. 
"You've  come  to  a  queer  place,  stranger.  First,  we're 
way  out  top  of  the  chimbly  wavin'  defiance  to  every 
body  and  braggin'  like  all  possessed,  then  down  we 
come  kerflunk !  But  we  rub  our  bruises  and  knock  off 
the  soot  an'  go  at  it  agen." 

"That's  the  way  you  have  to  do,"  was  the  almost 
cheerful  response.  Then  he  went  to  the  side  of  the 
wagon  and  chirped,  and  lifted  out  the  Little  Girl  and 
put  her  down.  I  looked  intently  at  her  and  she  was 
impressed  upon  my  brain. 

A  little  girl  of  seven  or  eight  in  a  faded  blue  cotton 


THE  LITTLE  GIRL  5 

frock  that  came  two  or  three  inches  from  her  ankles, 
and  her  dainty  feet  were  encased  in  a  pair  of  beaded 
moccasins.  Her  light  hair,  more  flaxen  than  golden, 
hung  about  in  short  loose  curls.  Her  skin  was  very 
fair,  her  mouth  like  an  opening  rosebud.  But  her  eyes 
transfixed  one  even  in  the  growing  darkness.  They 
seemed  bathed  in  dewy  sunshine  and  were  of  the  depth 
of  sapphire,  or  the  blue  of  a  winter  night.  The  brows 
and  lashes  were  much  darker  than  the  hair,  the  eyes 
large  and  clear,  but  after  she  had  once  glanced  up 
fearlessly  they  drooped  and  seemed  to  shine  through 
the  lashes. 

"You  are  just  a  little  dear,"  said  mother,  and  she 
stooped  to  kiss  her,  though  she  was  not  at  all  given 
to  caresses.  "And  now  while  they  go  out  to  look 
after  the  horses  I'll  fix  some  supper.  I've  just  cleared 
it  away.  My,  but  it's  dark  as  a  pocket  in  here.  I'll 
light  a  candle.  Have  you  had  a  long  journey?" 

"Oh,  days  and  days !  Sometimes  we  stayed  at  houses 
and  sometimes  in  the  wagon.  There  were  wolves  one 
night  and  father  shot  two,  and  we  stayed  one  night  in 
an  Indian  wigwam.  The  squaws  were  kind,  but  the 
babies  were  so  funny,  tied  to  a  board  and  standing 
round.  I  didn't  like  the  food  though.  I  can  cook 
some." 

"Haven't  you  any  mother?" 

The  child  sighed.  "Mother  died  a  long,  long  while 
ago.  Why  do  they  have  to  be  put  in  the  ground?  I 
should  think  they'd  be  carried  up  on  some  high 
mountain,  where  it  would  be  easier  for  the  angels  to 
get  them." 


6  A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"And  who  took  care  of  you?" 

"Aunt  Getty  did.  Then  she  married  Silas  Bowers 
and  he  had  seven  children.  I  didn't  like  them  though. 
Then  Gran  came  out  of  the  poorhouse,  and  after  that 
some  of  the  things  were  sold,  only  what  we  could 
pack  in  the  wagon.  It  was  very  nice  at  first.  We 
stopped  by  the  woods  and  made  fires  and  broiled 
fish  and  birds  that  father  shot.  You  make  a  little 
stone  fireplace  so — "  and  she  described  the  outline 
with  her  hands.  "And  when  the  wood  gets  all 
burned  to  coals  you  can  broil,  or  you  can  fry  in  a 
skillet." 

"You're  a  smart  little  thing,"  declared  mother  in 
amazement.  "Why  you're  not  much  bigger  than  a 
minute." 

"Why  a  minute  is  sixty  seconds,  and  what  do  you 
suppose  the  seconds  are?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  and  mother  laughed. 

It  looked  cheery  enough  when  I  came  in.  It  should 
have  been  painted  as  an  "Interior  in  Old  Chicago." 
The  room  was  large  with  a  great  fireplace  at  one  end, 
the  logs  had  been  chinked  in  with  plaster  and  then 
plastered  over  again,  quite  roughly  to  be  sure.  Every 
spring  and  fall  mother  whitewashed  it.  Now  it  was 
rather  smoky.  Dan  and  I  had  put  up  a  kind  of  dresser 
on  one  side,  shelves  braced  up  by  side  brackets  and  a 
curtain  hung  over  them.  Our  chairs  had  tough  reed 
grass  bottoms,  braided  in  a  fashion  learned  from  the 
Indians.  There  were  several  gun  racks,  and  some 
trophies  of  hunting.  On  one  side  was  a  roomy  settle 
that  did  duty  as  a  bed,  with  dried  grass  pillows  and 


THE  LITTLE  GIRL  7 

cured  skins,  some  quite  valuable.  Mother  had  two 
candles  lighted  on  the  table,  and  they  shed  a  sort  of 
weird  light  around.  She  was  warming  up  some 
chicken  potpie,  and  there  was  a  great  plate  of  brown 
bread  and  white,  and  another  of  gingerbread  and  an 
appetizing  sauce  of  wild  grapes. 

Mr.  Gaynor  had  stopped  at  the  bench  and  washed 
face  and  hands  with  a  great  flourish  of  enjoyment. 
Now  he  sniffed  at  the  savory  fragrance  with  the  eager 
ness  of  a  hungry  man. 

"Jest  draw  up,"  said  mother,  nodding  to  a  chair. 
But  she  placed  one  for  the  Little  Girl  and  would  have 
lifted  her  in  it,  only  she  slipped  by  with  the  litheness  of 
a  fairy. 

"What  is  your  name,  Sissy?" 

"Ruth — Ruth  Gaynor,"  was  the  gentle  reply. 

"And  I  am  John  Gaynor  from  old  Massachusetts. 
I've  wondered  along  the  route  what  evil  spirit  en 
ticed  me  to  leave  the  State  where  I  was  born,  but  some 
how  luck  turned  against  me,  and  the  farm  was  a  bed 
of  rocks,  as  one  may  say — worn-out  land.  There's  to 
be  a  great  wheat-growing  country  out  here,  folks  say, 
and  bread  is  one  of  the  things  that  doesn't  seem  to  go 
out  of  fashion.  Jerusalem !  but  there's  a  sight  of  folks 
growing  up  all  the  time.  When  the  world  gets  full 
I  s'pose  it'll  have  to  come  to  an  end,  for  if  it  is  full  of 
folks,  stands  to  reason  there  won't  be  no  room  for 
wheat  growing." 

"Laws  a'  massy,  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said 
mother.  "But  ther's  wars  and  plagues  an'  what  not. 
Sissy,  you  ain't  eating  no  supper." 


8  A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"I'm  eating  slow,  tastes  so  good,"  returned  Ruth 
gravely,  looking  up  with  shining  eyes. 

There  was  a  sudden  rush  and  howl  and  she  started 
in  terror,  turning  pale. 

"It's  them  dratted  boys,"  explained  mother,  going 
to  the  door.  "Boys — "  one  or  two  of  them  had  a  re 
sounding  cuff — "you  air  worse'n  a  pack  of  wolves! 
Now  jes'  wash  up  in  some  sort  o'  quiet  or  you'll  get 
your  father's  horsewhip.  An'  then  go  straight  to  bed. 
Go  round  'tother  way." 

"Who's  here?"  both  in  a  breath. 

"That's  nothin'  to  you.    Do  as  I  tell  you." 

"There  air  three  of  the  noisiest  boys  in  all  Chicago. 
Dan,  he's  quiet  and  grouty  like  when  things  don't  go 
to  suit,  but  he's  smart.  This  here  boy's  slow  an'  easy 
like,  an'  not  given  to  tantrums,  an'  I  guess  we'll  have 
to  make  a  'pason'  out  of  him.  Then  there's  Homer 
an'  Ben  'n  Chris,  an'  they'd  tear  the  house  down  if  they 
got  at  the  underpinnin'.  Norman  here  should  have 
been  a  gal !  My !  but  I  was  disappointed  when  he 
come.  I'd  jes'  set  my  heart  on  a  gal.  Then  I  got 
kinder  hardened  and  didn't  care.  Boys!" 

She  went  out  again  and  presently  there  was  a  gig 
gling  and  a  scuffling  off.  There  was  an  outside  cov 
ered  stairs  leading  to  the  attic  over  this  end  of  the 
house  and  the  boys  slept  there. 

I  had  been  watching  the  Little  Girl.  I  had  no  word 
for  it  then,  but  I  knew  afterward  it  was  daintiness 
that  enveloped  her.  She  sat  up  so  straight  and  ate  so 
quietly,  even  in  drinking  her  glass  of  milk  she  made 
no  noise.  Then  she  looked  up  at  mother  and  smiled. 


THE  LITTLE  GIRL  9 

"It  was  such  a  good  supper,"  she  said,  and  her  eyes 
shone  with  dewy  softness.  Then  she  turned  a  little 
and  glanced  at  me,  and  I  felt  my  cheek  burn  from 
some  unwonted  cause.  Not  but  what  girls  had  looked 
at  me  before,  and  I  had  romped  with  them. 

"I'm  wonderfully  obliged,  ma'am,"  and  Mr.  Gaynor 
rose  from  the  table.  "The  beasts,  too,  are  thankful  no 
doubt.  Hoping  presently  you'll  be  better  paid,  though 
I  take  it  that  kindness  isn't  ever  made  quite  straight 
with  money,  and  I'm  glad  enough  to  be  so  near  my 
journey's  end.  What  sort  of  a  place  is  Towner's?" 

Mother  looked  at  me.  "You  can  tell  best,  Norme," 
she  said  with  a  nod. 

"It's  just  a  little  'tother  side  of  the  river.  The  log 
house  isn't  much.  There's  quite  a  garden  spot,  then  it 
runs  out  on  the  prairie,  and  up  the  lake.  He  cut  some 
of  it  up  in  blocks  and  sold,  but  I  heard  pop  say  he  had 
to  take  it  back." 

"Is  it  the  town  proper  ?" 

"  'Twould  be  hard  to  tell  what's  town  and  what 
isn't,"  said  mother,  "though  they're  talkin'  'bout 
organizin'  something,  an'  it's  high  time  there  was 
some  sort  of  head  to  things.  They've  been  surveying 
and  surveying  and  laying  out  streets  that  cut  up  gar 
dens  and  farms.  Some  people  think  it'll  be  a  great 
place,  an'  others  say  it  can't  be  anything  but  a  mud 
hole.  You  see,  the  river  rises  in  a  freshet,  and  the 
wind  drives  the  lake  in.  It's  a  mighty  good  place  for 
ducks.  They  can  sit  on  the  stoop  of  Tremont  tavern 
and  shoot  them." 

John  Gaynor  laughed  heartily  at  that. 


io          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Mother  meanwhile  had  been  putting  away  the  food 
and  gathering  up  dishes.  Now  she  said: 

"Light  the  lantern,  Norman,  it's  grown  so  dark. 
Then  bring  out  the  towels.  You  see,"  with  a  light 
laugh,  "I  have  to  train  my  boys  to  do  some  gal's  work. 
I  don't  see  when  they  have  to  eat  why  they  shouldn't 
help  clear  it  away.  They'll  make  all  the  better  hus 
bands." 

"Would  you  mind  if  I  came  out  and  smoked  my 
pipe?" 

"Oh,  dear  no,"  returned  mother  cheerfully. 

The  lantern  shed  a  light  down  on  the  bench,  I 
brought  out  the  teakettle  and  filled  the  pan,  and  she  be 
gan  to  wash  and  put  the  dishes  in  another  pan  to 
drain.  Mr.  Gaynor  seated  himself  on  the  round  of  a 
tree  at  a  little  distance.  There  was  a  slight  touch  on 
my  elbow. 

"Couldn't  I  help  dry  them?"  inquired  a  soft  voice. 
"If  you  would  find  me  a  towel — " 

"Oh,  you  dear  little  housemaid!"  cried  mother  ad 
miringly.  "But  you  ought  to  play  lady  to-night." 

"I  used  to  do  it  for  Gran.  And  there's  so  many 
here.  Isn't  it  fun  to  have  a  good  many  dishes !  Oh, 
please  do!"  in  a  coaxing  tone. 

"Get  her  a  fresh  towel,"  said  mother,  amused.  So 
Ruth  Gaynor  and  I  dried  the  dishes  the  first  time  we 
saw  each  other,  and  with  that  began  a  great  friend 
ship. 

"You'll  do  for  a  housekeeper,"  commented  mother. 
"What  a  sweet  little  thing  you  are!  Why  I  think  I 
shall  have  to  buy  you  of  your  father." 


THE  LITTLE  GIRL  u 

"Oh,  he  couldn't  spare  me,  could  you,  father?" 

She  ran  and  slipped  on  his  knee  and  put  her  arms 
about  his  neck. 

"No,  little  one,"  he  made  answer. 

I  sat  on  the  end  of  the  bench  looking  at  them,  and 
envying  him.  I  wondered  how  the  soft  arms  would 
feel  about  my  neck,  the  rose-leaf  cheek  pressed  against 
mine.  I  was  past  fifteen  and  not  over  fond  of  brows 
ing  about  and  noisy  games,  though  I  was  well  grown 
and  strong.  I  liked  to  read  and  dream,  and  I  was 
fond  of  hearing  the  men  talk  when  they  did  not  swear 
too  much,  or  call  each  other  fools  too  often.  I  did 
enjoy  their  aspirations  about  Chicago  and  the  bound 
less  west.  Chicago  was  even  then  an  entrepot  for  St. 
Louis,  and  also  the  Mississippi,  from  upper  Michigan 
with  its  endless  stack  of  furs  to  Canada,  and  from 
thence  to  Europe.  When  all  these  great  reaches  were 
waving  cornfields  and  wheat  fields,  and  there  should 
be  a  port  extensive  enough  to  accommodate  them  all, 
a  gate  through  which  the  treasures  of  the  earth  and 
rain  and  sun  should  pass,  and  the  gold  and  silver  of 
the  world  return! 

Well,  it  was  a  splendid  dream  to  be  laughed  at 
then.  But  had  not  voyagers  a  hundred  years  before 
had  dreams  akin  to  it? 

The  Little  Girl  had  fallen  fast  asleep  when  her  father 
carried  her  in.  It  was  very  foolish,  but  I  wished  I 
could  have  kissed  the  soft,  slightly  parted  smiling  lips 
as  mother  had. 

Mother  lighted  them  into  the  new  part,  where  there 
was  a  small  sleeping  chamber  off  the  best  room  which, 


12          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

no  doubt,  would  have  been  called  a  parlor  if  Dan  and 
I  had  been  girls. 

"What  a  sweet  little  thing!"  mother  said  with  a 
sigh.  "Too  nice  to  come  to  a  wild  town  like  this." 

Dan  and  father  were  down  to  the  Tremont  playing 
cards  and  talking  politics.  Andrew  Jackson  was  still 
President,  a  man  who  had  warm  partisans  and  bitter 
enemies.  Then,  too,  Chicago  was  beginning  to  feel 
the  birth  throes  of  a  city. 

We  were  up  early  the  next  morning.  Dan  was  em 
ployed  in  one  of  the  trading  companies,  father  at  the 
mill,  and  they  were  off  by  six  in  summer.  It  was  true 
that  I  partly  did  a  girl's  work  helping  mother,  being 
deft  and  light-handed  for  a  boy.  I  ran  out  to  the 
stable  to  see  if  I  had  dreamed  this  wonderful  event  of 
the  night  before.  No,  there  were  the  horses,  who 
greeted  me  with  a  cheerful  whinny,  and  there  was  the 
wagon  with  its  patched  cover. 

Ruth  Gaynor  was  as  sweet  and  charming  in  the 
morning  as  she  had  been  at  night.  Soon  after  break 
fast  they  prepared  to  leave.  My  mother  would  accept 
nothing  for  her  hospitality  except  a  promise  that  Ruth 
should  come  over  and  visit  us.  The  three  younger 
ones  stared  at  her  with  boyish  bashfulness,  and  she 
did  not  seem  to  be  inclined  to  make  friends  with  them. 
I  was  selfishly  glad  of  it. 

I  was  to  pilot  them  over.  Everything  has  changed 
so  now  that  it  is  difficult  to  find  an  old  landmark. 
There  had  been  great  changes  even  in  my  remem 
brance.  Gurdon  Hubbard  had  moved  his  business  to 
Chicago  and  erected  a  brick  building  on  the  corner  of 


THE  LITTLE  GIRL  13 

South  Water  and  LaSalle  streets,  the  first  in  the  town. 
Then  he  had  built  a  warehouse  on  Kinzie  Street  and 
was  doing  a  flourishing  commission  and  forwarding 
business  with  vessels  plying  between  Buffalo  and  the 
upper  lakes,  the  Eagle  line.  Back  of  this  a  little  was 
the  space  a  block  square  that  Towner  had  traded  for 
the  Massachusetts  farm  near  a  thriving  city.  Then, 
still  farther  away,  was  the  tract  of  prairie. 

The  house  we  found  in  a  poor  condition.  But  as 
if  Mr.  Gaynor's  luck  was  to  begin  at  once,  some  parties 
wished  to  buy  half  of  this  plot  and  a  bargain  was 
struck.  That  would  leave  him  the  house  and  a  garden. 
There  was  such  a  little  money  that  trade  and  barter 
was  often  resorted  to,  and  through  a  third  party  he 
could  have  lumber  enough  to  build  two  new  rooms  on 
the  house  and  repair  the  other.  There  was  a  tolerable 
barn  and  stable. 

We  cleared  up  the  best  room.  It  was  astonishing 
to  see  the  useful  articles  and  bedding  that  were  stored 
in  the  great  wagon.  We  found  some  second-hand 
furniture,  and  by  night  they  were  fairly  comfortable. 
It  was  still  pleasant,  but  we  built  a  roaring  fire  in  the 
old  fireplace  to  drive  away  the  dampness. 

What  a  day  it  was  to  me !  How  fascinating  the 
Little  Girl  was  in  every  movement,  in  her  shrewd  say 
ings,  her  wisdom  that  seemed  much  too  old  for  her 
years,  yet  she  was  such  a  frank,  eager  child. 

"Must  you  go  home?"  she  asked  pleadingly.  "Your 
mother  has  other  boys.  Can't  some  of  them  help  her?" 

"I  suppose  they  could  be  trained  to.  They  have 
always  kept  together  and  are  so  full  of  play." 


H  ' 

"And  do  you  work  all  the  time  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  have  been  to  school.  But  I  am  old  enough 
to  go  to  work  regularly  and  mean  to  soon."  I  felt  as 
if  I  would  like  to  be  a  man  at  once,  though  I  could 
give  no  reason  for  it. 

"I  hate  to  have  you  go."  She  caught  hold  of  my  hand 
and  swung  herself  gently  to  and  fro.  "I  like  you 
very  much." 

She  glanced  up  out  of  such  clear,  shining  eyes  that 
she  seemed  to  fill  my  whole  being  with  their  light. 
My  mother  had  a  right  to  me — had  any  one  ever  really 
wanted  me  before? 

"Will  you  come  to-morrow?  There  is  so  much 
work  to  do,"  sighing  with  a  fascinating  air. 

"I  will  come  to-morrow,"  I  was  glad  to  promise. 

"Let  me  walk  down  to  the  end  of  the  street,  and 
then  I  will  turn  and  run  back,  and  instead  of  saying 
good-by  say  'to-morrow,  to-morrow,'  and  just  watch 
for  the  sunrise." 

She  kept  my  hand  until  we  reached  the  corner,  then 
like  a  fleet  little  fawn  skimmed  over  the  ground,  never 
once  glancing  back,  and  I  had  known  her  only  twenty- 
four  hours. 

"I  hope  you  were  well  paid  for  your  day's  work," 
said  my  mother  laughingly. 


CHAPTER  II 

GETTING  DINNER 

"THE  man  certainly  was  a  fool,"  said  my  father  that 
evening  as  he  sat  smoking  his  pipe.  He  had  taken  part 
in  a  political  quarrel  the  evening  before,  and  so  did  not 
go  down  to  the  Tremont  to  play  cards,  but  read  the 
Democrat  and  made  promiscuous  comments  as  he 
went  along. 

"What  man?"  asked  mother. 

"Why  that  Gaynor !  The  idea  of  selling  out  a  good 
home  in  a  prosperous  State  and  coming  out  here !  If 
I  could  get  out  of  this  mud  hole  to-morrow  I  just 
would." 

"Oh,  no  you  wouldn't.  You  have  said  many  a  time 
that  Chicago  would  lead  all  the  Western  cities  when 
she  was  fairly  on  the  march." 

"Well — he  will  never  see  any  of  his  money  or  values 
back  again !" 

"He  disposed  of  half  his  plot  to  Farlie  this  morn 
ing,"  I  interposed. 

"What!"  The  tone  was  sharp  enough  to  take  one's 
head  off. 


1 6  A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

I  repeated  my  assertion. 

"And  swapped  for  another  mud  hole?" 

"No,  he  wanted  lumber  and  various  materials.  The 
rest  is  in  notes." 

"Yes,  yes,  well  Farlie'll  shave  him.  Yankees  think 
they  are  very  smart  and  shrewd,  but  he  will  find !"  and 
father  nodded  vindictively. 

"I  think  that  an  excellent  thing.  They  want  a  com 
fortable  home  and  they  must  have  some  one  to  help 
out  that  child.  She  ought  to  go  to  school.  She's  too 
little  to  keep  house.  I  must  go  over  and  see  her." 

"Oh,  do,"  I  entreated.  "It's  hard  to  have  her  there 
alone." 

"Yes,  men  as  a  general  thing  haven't  much  sense 
about  rearing  gals." 

"Norman,"  began  my  father  rather  abruptly,  "you 
go  over  to  Hubbard's.  I  heard  he  wanted  some  help — 
a  boy  good  at  figuring.  When  I  was  twelve  years  old 
I  turned  out  to  work.  You've  had  a  pretty  good 
chance  at  schooling." 

My  heart  beat  with  a  quick  throb.  Why,  if  I  could 
get  a  situation  there  I  could  see  the  Little  Girl  every 
day! 

"I'll  go  the  first  thing,"  I  replied  cheerfully. 

"And  you  needn't  stick  out  about  wages.  Boys 
nowadays  think  they  are  worth  a  heap  of  gold,  but 
they're  not.  Be  content  to  begin  down  to  the 
bottom  of  the  line,  and  thankful  that  you  have  the 
chance." 

I  was  amused.  I  think  I  was  a  rather  meek  boy 
and  not  given  to  exalting  myself. 


GETTING  DINNER  17 

The  three  younger  ones  went  to  school,  and  then  it 
was  from  eight  to  five,  seven  months  of  the  year,  from 
nine  until  four  through  the  winter  months.  It  might 
have  been  hard  on  the  teachers,  but  no  one  com 
plained. 

The  next  morning  when  I  started  out  my  mother 
said,  "Go  and  see  if  that  little  Gaynor  girl  is  well,  and 
how  they  managed  last  night." 

I  went  to  the  warehouse  first.  It  looked  big  and 
business-y  in  those  days.  Vessels  were  lading,  men 
were  running  to  and  fro,  a  few  negroes  among  them. 
Even  at  this  early  period  there  were  protests  against 
slavery  in  all  the  Northern  States,  and  the  Missouri 
Compromise  was  supposed  to  have  settled  it.  There 
were  hardly  a  hundred  negroes  in  the  town  at  that 
time,  and  some  were  tall,  strong  fellows.  A  few 
Indians  were  loitering  about,  though  most  had  been 
sent  out  on  the  new  reservations.  They  were  still  con 
sidered  rather  treacherous,  though  no  longer  to  be 
feared. 

I  picked  my  way  among  the  piles  of  goods  to  the 
sort  of  counting  room.  Fortunately  I  saw  a  famil 
iar  face,  Mr.  Abner  Harris,  who  had  been  one  of  our 
neighbors,  and  had  now  gone  over  on  the  north  side. 

"Well,"  he  began,  looking  me  over  from  top  to  toe, 
"what  can  I  do  for  you?  We're  short  handed  this 
morning,  and  if  you  could  take  a  turn — something  of 
a  scholar,  ain't  you?" 

I  told  him  my  errand  and  that  my  father  had  sent 
me. 

He  nodded  in  a  kind  of  cheerful  way,  "Yes,  we  want 


1 8          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

an  office  boy  who  isn't  afraid  of  work  and  doesn't  take 
a  nap  oftener  than  every  three  hours.  Can  you  do 
lettering?  These  things  should  have  started  yester 
day.  While  we  have  the  promise  that  the  world  will 
be  burned  up,  and  not  drowned  out  we  can't  always 
count  on  the  wind  nor  this  deceitful  lake,  which  can 
smile  at  you  and  then  drive  you  heaven  only  knows 
where!  My  opinion  is  that  when  the  old  Greek  gods 
were  dispersed  Neptune  took  up  his  residence  at  the 
bottom  of  this  lake  and  enjoys  the  rumpus  he  kicks 
up." 

"Neptune?"  I  was  not  much  acquainted  with  the 
Greeks  in  those  days. 

"There,  don't  stand  talking  all  day."  I  had  only 
uttered  one  word.  "Take  that  bit  of  board  and  copy 
this,  and  let's  see  whether  it  will  be  in  Latin  or  High 
Dutch.  This  little  brush,  and  here's  the  paint." 

I  copied  out  the  address  consigned  to  a  Buffalo  firm. 

"That's  fair.  You  needn't  stop  to  flourish.  Now  go 
on  with  these  boxes  and  bales,  seven  of  them." 

It  came  a  little  awkward  at  first,  but  I  saw  that  I 
was  making  a  decided  improvement.  Mr.  Harris 
nodded.  Then  there  was  something  else.  But  before 
noon  the  boat  started  off,  and  as  I  watched  her  I  half 
wished  I  was  aboard  of  her.  I  had  not  been  a  dozen 
miles  out  of  Chicago  in  my  fifteen  years. 

Then  I  thought  of  the  Little  Girl. 

"You  seem  to  be  a  likely  fellow,  Hayne,  and  you 
are  not  continually  asking  why  the  sun  rises  in  the 
East.  That  stands  for  any  foolish  boy  question.  I 
half  engaged  a  young  fellow  yesterday,  Sim  Chase; 


GETTING  DINNER  19 

his  father  is  deacon  in  the  church,  but  he  hasn't  put  in 
any  appearance  yet.  I  shouldn't  like  to  go  back  on  his 
father.  Tell  you  what  I'll  do.  You  come  in  Sat'day 
and  I'll  know  then." 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  have  the  place,"  I  ven 
tured  ;  standing  on  one  foot,  boy  fashion. 

He  gave  a  funny  twinkle  with  one  eye  and  said, 
"Oh,  I  guess  it'll  be  all  right." 

I  went  off  with  a  light  heart.  It  was  not  far  to  the 
Gaynors'.  A  load  of  lumber  had  come  and  two  men 
were  laying  a  foundation  driving  piles.  Mr.  Gaynor 
was  giving  orders  here  and  there.  Few  things  escaped 
his  sharp  eye.  But  he  only  said  to  me  with  a  curt 
sort  of  nod,  "Go  round  there  and  see  if  you  can't  help 
Ruth." 

I  was  only  too  glad.  She  was  trying  to  make  the 
fire  burn,  and  the  smoke  had  filled  her  eyes  with  tears. 
The  wood  was  rather  damp  and  dozy.  I  looked 
around  for  some  dry  brush;  we  were  not  a  well- 
wooded  country,  and  presently  I  had  a  cheerful  blaze. 

"What  are  you  going  to  have  for  dinner?"  I  asked. 
"Or  have  you  had  it?" 

"No;  father  brought  in  some  potatoes  and  some 
fish.  I  can't  bear  to  touch  raw  fish,"  and  she  shud 
dered. 

"Have  you  any  sort  of  a  kettle?" 

"Only  this,"  and  she  exhumed  a  long-handled  stew 
ing  pipkin,  that  the  folks  farther  south  called 
piggins. 

"That  will  do  for  potatoes  if  we  can  find  a  cover." 

"And  this  frying  pan." 


20          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"For  the  fish.    We'll  have  a  fine  dinner." 

"I'm  so  glad  you  came.  I  wonder  what  I  ought  to 
call  you?"  with  a  kind  of  delicate  perplexity  in  her 
face. 

"Why!  Norman  if  you  like.  Mother  and  pop 
shorten  it  into  Norme." 

"Did  you  come  from — England — Normandy?" 

"No,"  I  laughed.  "Pop,  I  believe,  came  from  York 
State,  and  mother's  folks  from  down  farther  south. 
You  know  Chicago  isn't  a  very  old  place." 

"I'd  like  to  hear  about  it.  It  seems  very  queer. 
And  you  know  we  have  Plymouth  Rock.  There  were 
English  Governors  too,  and  it  is  more  than  two  hun 
dred  years  old." 

There  was  a  certain  pride  in  her  as  she  stood  there 
in  her  faded  gown,  her  tangled  curls  about  her  small 
face,  her  eyes  shining  with  strength  through  their 
lucent  light.  I  could  have  knelt  and  kissed  her  hand. 

"And  they  had  to  cook  dinners  two  hundred  years 
ago.  I  suppose  they  brought  over  pots  and  pans  in 
the  Mayflower,  and  salt  and  pepper.  I  couldn't  find 
any  salt  this  morning,"  she  laughed  merrily,  "and  I've 
come  in  a  wagon  from  Massachusetts.  I  am  an  emi 
grant,  am  I  not?  But  I  almost  wish  I  had  not  come." 

Her  voice  sank  to  a  pathetic  cadence  that  pierced  my 
heart. 

"Oh,  no,  don't  wish  that !"  I  cried  earnestly.  "And 
there  are  some  curious  stories  about  Chicago — sad 
ones,  too.  We  will  go  to  old  Fort  Dearborn.  And  for 
a  good  many  years  one  man  lived  here  all  alone,  and 
LaSalle  and  Joliet  and  travellers  went  to  and  fro  and 


GETTING  DINNER  zi 

left  romances  in  their  steps.  We  will  hunt  them  up 
some  day.  But  I  must  clean  the  fish.  Oh,  what  nice 
plump  fellows!" 

"How  good  you  are.  I  shall  like  to  see  those  places. 
I  like  stories."  Her  face  was  aglow  with  interest. 
The  potatoes  were  boiling  splendidly.  I  poked  in  some 
rough  pieces  of  wood  to  make  another  bed  of  coals, 
then  I  addressed  myself  to  the  fish  and  soon  had 
them  in  frying  order.  But  certainly  I  must  have  some 
salted  pork. 

I  ran  down  the  street  a  short  distance  and  begged 
some  from  a  neighbor.  Then  I  drew  out  the  coals  and 
we  soon  had  a  savory  fragrance. 

"Oh,  how  delicious !"  Her  eyes  fairly  shone  with 
pleasure. 

Mr.  Gaynor  came  in,  his  face  piquantly  wrinkled 
with  expectation. 

"I  shall  have  to  hire  you  for  cook,  my  lad,"  he  ex 
claimed  in  a  joyous  tone.  "I'm  hungry  as  a  bear  in 
March." 

"Why  March  particularly?"  I  asked. 

"When  he  wakes  out  of  his  winter's  nap." 

"And  he  doesn't  need  any  table,"  said  the  Little 
Girl  glancing  about  in  a  lugubrious  fashion,  with  the 
corners  of  her  mouth  quivering. 

"I'll  fix  that.  You  two  deserve  a  table  for  such  a 
feast." 

He  brought  in  a  board  and  laid  it  on  two  boxes ;  but 
he  decided  that  we  must  sit  on  the  floor. 

"And  we  have  sat  under  a  tree  on  the  grass  many 
a  time,  haven't  we,  father?" 


22          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

There  was  such  a  sound  of  joyous  comfort  in  her 
tone  it  warmed  one's  heart. 

What  a  feast  it  was!  The  fish  were  browned  to  a 
turn,  the  potatoes  we  seasoned  with  the  gravy,  and 
there  was  bread  and  butter.  I  can  recall  a  little  girl 
in  after  life  who  sat  on  my  knee  and  never  wearied  of 
hearing  about  this  feast. 

"Does  fall  set  in  early  here?"  Mr.  Gaynor  asked. 
"I  want  to  get  the  other  room  done — it  will  be  two, 
really,  for  this  is  nothing  but  a  shack.  That  Towner 
must  have  viewed  it  with  the  eye  of  faith,  which  is  the 
evidence  of  things  unseen,  and  they  say  the  winds  are 
something  terrible." 

"Yes,  you'll  get  them  here  off  the  lake,  but  not  so 
bad  as  further  down." 

"What  a  tremendous  lake!  It  fairly  takes  one's 
breath  away.  And  those  prairies!  Are  they  good  for 
wheat?  A  new  country  ought  to  be.  The  corn  I  see 
looks  fine.  Why,  it  fairly  stirs  one's  blood." 

Now  and  then  the  Little  Girl  glanced  up  with  a 
happy  half  smile  and  a  light  coming  and  going  in  her 
eyes.  How  she  seemed  to  enjoy  it  all. 

"We're  mightily  obliged  to  you,  young  fellow,"  Mr. 
Gaynor  said  as  he  rose.  "That  was  a  good  dinner. 
But  Ruth  is  too  little  to  shoulder  this  rough  sort  of  life. 
I  thought  I'd  see  if  your  mother  couldn't  find  us  a 
woman  to  come  in  part  of  the  time,  and  we  want  some 
furniture — table  and  chairs,  and  some  sort  of  a  cot  to 
sleep  on.  By  the  great  Mogul !  this  is  coming  to  a 
new  country !  and  it's  beginning  from  the  very  founda 
tion." 


GETTING  DINNER  23 

"Mother  spoke  of  coming  over,"  I  said.  "I  think 
she  can  find  some  one.  And  next  week  I  hope  to  go 
to  work  at  Mr.  Hubbard's ;  then  I  shall  see  you  often. 
Oh,  I  know  my  mother  is  very  much  interested  in  you." 

"And  we  need  a  good  woman  friend,  don't  we,  Little 
Girl  ?"  as  he  softly  pinched  his  daughter's  cheek.  "We 
can  imagine  how  it  was  when  they  came  over  in  the 
Mayflower.  We've  come  to  a  new  country." 

Then  he  went  out  to  look  after  his  men.  We  tidied 
up  a  little,  washed  the  few  dishes  and  had  a  merry 
time,  and  to  my  surprise  I  saw  the  portly  form  of  my 
mother  peering  about  as  if  not  quite  sure  of  her  bear 
ings.  I  ran  out  to  her. 

"Well,  well,"  and  she  kissed  the  Little  Girl.  "You 
have  had  some  dinner  I  know  by  the  smell,  and  I 
have  brought  you  a  loaf  of  bread  an'  a  cake  an'  part  of 
a  boiled  ham  an'  a  jar  of  fruit.  It's  the  grandmother 
bringing  something  to  little  Red  Riding  Hood,  only 
you  are  not  very  red.  You  must  get  some  color  in 
your  cheeks." 

After  we  had  talked  awhile  I  called  in  Mr.  Gaynor, 
who  laid  a  few  of  his  plans  and  his  wants  before  her, 
and  she  spoke  of  some  help  she  thought  she  could  get. 

Then  she  asked  to  look  over  Ruth's  clothing. 
There  was  not  much  of  it,  and  tied  up  in  a  pillow  case. 
Mother  gave  a  few  sage  nods  over  it. 

"She'll  want  a  couple  of  woollen  winter  frocks.  I'll 
conjure  them  out  for  her,  though  I'm  quick  to  say  I 
know  more  about  jackets  and  breeches.  They  can 
wait  awhile,  but  she  ought  to  have  a  new  gingham. 
You  go  to  church?" 


24  A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Well— I'd  like  her  to  go  if  'twas  handy." 

"You'll  want  some  dishes  an'  things,  and  pervisions. 
But  you  can't  bake  nothin'  'cept  johnny  cake.  You'll 
get  a  stove?  They're  mighty  handy  when  you  don't 
have  an  oven.  Though  ther's  a  bake  pan  that 
answers." 

"When  we  get  in  the  new  room  we'll  be  a  little 
more  forehanded  as  to  things.  Well,  do  what's  about 
right,"  and  he  gave  her  some  money. 

The  Little  Girl  looked  with  wide  open  shining  eyes 
as  we  went  along  Kinzie  Street  and  turned  into  La- 
Salle,  where  the  Cayses  kept  a  country  store  at  that 
time.  There  were  two  or  three  higher  toned  ones, 
where  articles  were  not  so  promiscuously  mixed.  At 
first  glance  it  seemed  like  moving  day.  It  was  long 
and  low,  with  two  counters,  one  for  dry  goods  and  a 
yard  measure,  and  the  other  with  scales  for  weighing 
everything  from  powder  and  shot  to  an  ounce  of  spice, 
coffee,  sugar,  honey,  molasses,  butter,  pork,  hams, 
even  game  that  had  been  traded  off  for  other  wants, 
along  with  more  bulky  wares  and  farming  imple 
ments. 

Ma'am  Cayse,  as  she  was  generally  called,  was  a 
short,  stout,  strong-looking  woman  with  a  square  jaw, 
large  white  teeth,  a  rather  flat  nose  and  a  forehead  that 
took  full  one-half  of  her  face.  Her  sandy  hair  was 
twisted  in  a  tight  knot  at  the  back  of  her  head,  her 
skirt  was  short,  showing  both  homespun  stockings 
and  home-made  shoes.  A  sort  of  loose  sacque  en 
veloped  the  upper  part  of  her  body  with  the  sleeves 
rolled  over  in  a  wad  nearly  to  the  shoulder. 


GETTING  DINNER  25 

"Who's  gal  is  that?"  she  asked  abruptly. 

"Her  father  took  the  Towner  place.  He's  buildin' 
onto  it." 

"Some  one  must  have  money  in  sech  times  as  these. 
It's  skace  as  hen's  teeth.  I  declare  to  man  if  I  could 
get  holt  of  half  a  dollar  I'd  pinch  the  eagle  'til  he 
squealed,  an'  ther's  goin'  to  be  a  vandue,  too." 

"Whose  vanduin'?"  asked  mother  with  a  look  of 
interest.  People  in  newly  settled  places  are  apt  to  coin 
words,  I  have  noticed,  and  after  awhile  some  of  them 
get  regularly  accepted. 

"Why  the  Simses,  goin'  back  to  Cahoky  before  cold 
weather,  but  I'd  go  way  down  to  Noo  Orleens  if  I  was 
them  and  wanted  to  keep  warm.  An'  'tother  folks  go 
to  Canady  or  up  to  Mackinac.  Ye  jest  can't  count  for 
tastes.  What'll  ye  have  ?" 

Mother  ordered  with  an  air  of  slow  indifference. 
The  gingham  was  really  pretty  I  thought,  with  some 
fine  lines  of  blue  and  red  with  the  black  and  little 
squares  of  white.  Some  eatables  followed  in  turn,  and 
the  ordinary  country  gossip  until  the  next  customer 
came  in.  It  was  rather  early  for  the  men  to  be  con 
gregating  in  a  line  across  the  front,  smoking  their 
pipes.  Those  who  tarried  here  were  mostly  church- 
going  people  who  would  not  be  seen  at  the  taverns, 
but  dearly  loved  to  argue  politics  or  religion. 

"I'm  glad  she  spoke  of  that  vandue,"  said  mother 
when  we  were  out  of  hearing.  "Ther'  may  be  a  chance 
to  get  a  bargain." 

For  bargains  were  as  dear  to  women's  hearts  then 
as  now. 


26          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

We  rambled  down  the  river  side,  then  crossed  the 
bridge  and  came  up  to  recross  it  again.  Mr.  Gaynor 
had  impressed  some  new  workmen  in  his  service  and 
matters  were  being  pushed  ahead  rapidly. 

"And  while  mother  goes  to  the  vandue  we  will  take 
a  walk,"  I  said.  "We'll  go  to  Fort  Dearborn,  and  I'll 
tell  you  the  story.  Only  it  is  very  sad." 

"The  Indian  stories  always  are,"  she  said  with  a 
sigh.  "Do  you  suppose  God  made  them  cruel  like  be 
cause  they  had  to  fight  each  other  so  much?  And 
what  is  there  clear  out  west  when  they  get  there?" 

I  shook  my  head.  We  had  not  much  faith  in  the 
noble  red  men  in  those  days,  and  those  lingering  about 
Chicago  were  rather  disreputable. 

Mother  settled  with  Mr.  Gaynor  about  going  to  the 
Simses'  sale,  and  I  arranged  to  take  Ruth  to  Fort 
Dearborn.  I  would  have  only  two  days  more. 

Father  was  confident  the  mantle  of  honor  would 
fall  upon  me.  Sim  Chase  he  declared  a  lazy  lout. 
They  had  tried  him  at  the  mill. 

The  weather  was  still  superb.  Ruth  and  I  crossed 
the  bridge  and  picked  our  way  over  the  dusty  roads. 
Surely  we  needed  rain — we  were  always  either  dust  or 
mud. 

No  one  remarked  the  Little  Girl  in  her  faded  frock 
and  sun-bonnet,  now  nearly  white.  Now  and  then 
someone  looked  sharply  at  me,  and  it  brought  the  color 
to  my  cheek.  I  had  never  thought  about  girls.  I  had 
gone  to  a  boys'  school  and  had  been  pretty  busy  with 
lessons  and  rather  fond  of  staying  home  with  mother 
and  hearing  her  talk  of  her  young  days.  I  had  no 


GETTING  DINNER  27 

especial  consciousness  about  a  girl  now,  my  only  wish 
being  that  she  was  truly  my  sister  and  lived  with  us. 

It  is  all  swept  away  but  the  tablet  and  the  monu 
ment.  But  before  the  last  century  had  ended,  by  the 
treaty  of  Granville  with  five  Indian  tribes,  a  piece  of 
ground  six  miles  square  at  the  entrance  of  the  Chicago 
river  was  set  aside  for  the  building  of  a  fort  where 
there  had  once  been  a  French  trading  post.  It  was  a 
stockade  with  block  houses,  to  be  one  of  the  chain  for 
outposts  of  defence  for  the  trade  growing  of  more  im 
portance  every  year.  Down  here  came  Captain  Whist 
ler  and  his  son  and  the  two  wives  from  Detroit,  with 
the  company  for  work  and  for  defence,  and  bravely 
they  went  at  their  task.  On  the  north  side  was  the 
sally  port  or  passage  leading  from  the  parade  ground 
to  the  river,  to  be  used  as  an  escape  in  time  of  emer 
gency.  There  were  no  horses  or  oxen  and  the  men 
hauled  the  wood.  There  were  Indian  outbreaks  now 
and  then,  but  the  little  colony  increased  and  all  about 
the  fort  clustered  a  settlement. 

And  so  it  remained  for  about  nine  years.  The 
women  had  learned  to  be  as  brave  as  the  men,  as 
fearless  too.  Then  came  the  sudden  and  unexpected 
orders  from  Detroit  to  evacuate  the  fort,  as  Detroit 
was  to  be  surrendered  to  the  English.  There  had  been 
numerous  Indian  raids  on  other  forts. 

The  Pottawattamies  had  been  very  good  friends 
with  the  soldiers  and  the  dwellers  about.  But  when 
they  heard  that  General  Hull  had  ordered  that  the 
property  in  the  fort  was  to  be  distributed  among  the 
Indians  they  secretly  joined  the  marauding  bands, 


28         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

though  they  promised  a  safe-conduct  to  those  within. 
Captain  Wells  ordered  the  whiskey  to  be  poured  into 
the  river,  and  the  powder  to  be  destroyed,  knowing  the 
liquor  would  make  fiends  of  the  savages.  So  one 
August  day  they  started,  women,  children  and  wagons, 
guarded  by  the  soldiers;  but  when  they  had  gone  a 
mile  or  so  from  the  fort,  they  found  themselves  almost 
surrounded  by  Indians,  the  remnants  of  various  tribes 
that  had  not  moved  to  the  reservation,  and  the  Potto- 
wattamies  joining  them,  the  dreadful  massacre  oc 
curred.  A  number  were  carried  prisoners  to  St. 
Joseph. 

Mrs.  Heald,  who  had  brought  with  her  from  Ken 
tucky,  on  her  marriage,  a  beautiful  mare,  which  had 
aroused  the  envy  of  two  Indian  chiefs,  who  had  made 
several  attempts  to  steal  it,  rode  out  of  the  fort,  but  as 
soon  as  the  raid  was  made  she  was  forced  to  dismount 
and  see  her  favorite  in  the  hands  of  the  savages,  and 
she  was  led  back  to  the  fort  a  prisoner,  while  her  hus 
band  was  killed  and  treated  with  cruel  indignity. 
Then  the  Indians  took  possession  of  the  fort  and  held 
pandemonium  for  a  few  days.  Afterward  the  Indians 
went  off  to  attack  Fort  Wayne. 

We  rambled  about  the  fort  that  had  been  rebuilt 
later  on,  and  was  now  being  evacuated  for  the  second 
time,  the  victories  over  the  rambling  bands  of  Indians 
having  made  the  country  quite  secure.  Ruth  Gaynor 
had  heard  of  massacres  in  her  native  State  not  less 
cruel. 

"But  Mrs.  Heald  and  her  beautiful  horse?"  she 
queried  with  pathos  in  both  eyes  and  voice. 


GETTING  DINNER  29 

"No  money  could  buy  it  back.  Some  Indian  chief 
thought  too  highly  of  his  four-footed  prisoner  to  give 
it  up.  Mrs.  Heald,  badly  wounded,  for  she  had 
fought  bravely  for  her  freedom,  was  left  for  a  few 
days  with  an  Indian  trader  at  St.  Joseph's  and  was 
finally  permitted  to  return  to  Louisville.  Some  of  the 
prisoners  were  taken  up  to  Michigan  and  given  their 
liberty  on  the  recapture  of  Detroit.  The  fort  was  set 
on  fire  and  made  a  heap  of  ruins.  Several  of  the  pris 
oners  returned,  but  for  a  long  while  the  station  was 
well-nigh  deserted  by  immigrants." 

It  looked  deserted  now.  A  drooping  flag  waved 
over  it,  but  there  was  no  glitter  of  arms  or  soldiery 
tread  of  sentinels.  Business  was  taking  the  place  of 
picturesque  romance. 

"You  know,"  Ruth  said  in  an  awed  voice,  "there  are 
stories  of  ghosts  appearing.  Did  no  one  ever  see  Mrs. 
Heald  on  her  beautiful  horse  riding  out,  or  around?" 

It  was  growing  toward  night  now,  and  the  drifting 
clouds  had  obscured  the  sunset.  The  lake  stretched 
off  weird  and  dark.  We  had  climbed  some  steps  and 
now  we  looked  and  listened  and  then  glanced  at  each 
other.  The  spirited  form  of  the  woman  who  had 
fought  for  her  life  should  have  appeared. 

"Come,  we  must  go  home,"  I  said.  I  was  conscious 
of  a  curious  impression  stealing  over  me. 

"I  should  like  to  see  her,"  Ruth  said  longingly.  "I 
do  not  think  I  should  be  a  bit  afraid." 

I  took  her  hand  and  helped  her  down.  "We  will 
come  again,"  I  said,  "but  mother  will  wonder  what  has 
become  of  us." 


CHAPTER  III 

THROUGH   THE  WINTER 

THE  workmen  were  just  leaving  off  when  we  reached 
the  place  that  was  to  be  home  for  the  Little  Girl,  and 
where  she  was  to  spend  many  happy  days.  To-mor 
row  they  were  to  raise  the  framework.  There  was 
no  eight-hour  day  or  discussion  at  that  period.  I 
gathered  an  armful  of  blocks  and  made  the  fire.  We 
broiled  slices  of  ham  and  had  some  excellent  bread,  in 
the  making  of  which  my  mother  excelled.  Mr.  Gay- 
nor  was  much  interested  in  Fort  Dearborn,  and 
strong  in  his  denunciation  of  General  Hull  delivering 
up  Detroit,  as  it  had  inspired  the  Indians  with  hopes 
of  re-conquest  of  many  of  the  posts.  But  heroic 
Anthony  Wayne  had  soon  turned  the  tide. 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  stay  all  night,"  ex 
claimed  my  mother  rather  tartly,  "or  that  ther'  had 
been  a  new  Indian  raid  and  you  had  lost  your  head 
piece.  Ther'  ain't  much  sense  in  it,  'pears  like,  but 
you'd  look  rather  queer  without  it." 

I  only  laughed  a  little.  It  was  the  best  way  of  re 
storing  her  to  good  humor.  The  men  were  nearly 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER  31 

always  off  playing  cards.  Dan  was  nineteen,  a  fine 
strapping  fellow,  good  looking  too,  and  a  great  hand 
for  argument.  A  little  one  between  Dan  and  myself 
had  died. 

Mother  went  to  the  vendue  and  bought  some  neces 
sary  furnishings  for  the  new  house.  Meanwhile  the 
frame  had  been  raised,  the  near  neighbors  turning  out 
to  help.  Mr.  Gaynor's  being  a  Yankee  went  rather 
against  him,  but  the  fact  that  he  had  some  cash  to  pay 
out  evened  up  matters.  He  treated  generously  to 
whiskey — they  were  steady  drinkers  in  those  days — 
and  could  stand  a  good  deal.  He  was  very  abstemious 
I  learned  afterward. 

Mother  also  found  an  old  colored  woman,  half  a 
century  seemed  to  age  the  negroes  then,  and  Aunt 
Becky  had  grandchildren  grown  up.  She  was  quite  a 
famous  cook,  and  at  the  rush  times  at  the  taverns,  holi 
days  and  political  gatherings  cooked  for  the  feasts. 
Any  of  them  would  have  employed  her  all  the  time,  but 
working  steady  was  her  aversion.  She  was  persuaded, 
however,  to  go  for  two  or  three  hours  a  day,  until 
better,  or  steadier,  help  could  be  obtained. 

I  dropped  in  at  the  warehouse  and  found  to  my 
great  joy  that  I  had  secured  the  position. 

"Now  you've  only  got  to  carry  yourself  straight  and 
keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head,"  said  my  father,  "and 
you'll  get  a  good  business  insight  that'll  make  your 
fortune  some  day,  if  you  have  brains  enough;  and 
you  keep  out  of  taverns  and  cards  and  let  whiskey 
alone  until  you  get  ballast  enough  not  to  run  aground." 

There  was,  I  suppose,  a  good  deal  of  dissipation  in 


32          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

those  days,  but  men  were  strong  and  hardy  too. 
Quarrels  were  not  infrequent  and  occasionally  had  a 
desperate  ending.  But  there  were  some  admirable 
homes,  and  mothers  who  left  a  strong  moral  impress 
on  their  families.  The  living  had  a  certain  fine  sim 
plicity  if  it  was  not  so  intellectual. 

I  liked  my  new  place  very  much.  I  was  general 
factotum,  to  be  sure,  with  occasionally  an  over- 
measure  of  hard  words.  Mr.  Harris  always  stood  my 
friend.  He  soon  found  that  I  was  ready  at  figures  and 
had  what  he  called  ideas ;  my  mother's  homely  name 
for  it  was  "gumption."  Mr.  Gaynor  used  the  word 
also. 

Did  any  one  then,  with  all  the  boasting  and  brag 
ging,  imagine  that  in  half  a  century  Chicago  would 
spring  into  wonderful  prominence,  outstripping  older 
towns  with  a  vivid  maturity,  be  burned  to  ashes,  rise 
again  and  lift  itself  not  only  out  of  ashes  but  out  of 
the  slough,  and  if  it  could  not  be  a  city  set  on  a  hill, 
still  become  marvellous  in  its  advancement  of  all 
kinds?  I  thought  then  that  Eagle  fleet  of  vessels  was 
simply  astonishing  with  the  freights  they  carried 
across  the  lake.  Men  were  fighting  then  for  a  canal,  a 
clear  waterway  to  the  Mississippi  without  any  por 
tage. 

I  liked  to  hear  Mr.  Harris's  reminiscences  of  the 
town.  LeVasseur  &  Hubbard  opened  the  first  dry- 
goods  store  about  1820.  Mr.  LeVasseur  was  a  fine 
man  and  did  a  good  deal  of  trading  with  the  Indians 
for  furs,  and  had  several  outlying  posts.  Mr.  Hub- 
bard  was  a  very  public-spirited  and  ambitious  citizen. 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER  33 

Then  for  years  he  coasted  up  and  down  the  lake  in 
Canadian  bateaux,  commonly  known  as  Mackinaw 
boats.  Some  years  before  this  he  had  erected  a  large 
brick  building  on  LaSalle  Street,  often  termed  Hub- 
bard's  folly,  where  beef  and  pork  were  packed  for  the 
outlying  trade.  His  faith  in  the  town  was  undaunted 
by  the  numerous  mishaps,  and  he  was  Commissioner 
of  the  Illinois  and  Michigan  canal,  and  turned  the  first 
shovel  of  dirt  on  the  nation's  birthday,  July  fourth, 
though  it  languished  for  several  years. 

I  went  early  and  often  stayed  late,  but  ran  away  at 
noon  to  see  how  it  fared  with  the  Little  Girl,  though  I 
found  my  mother  was  taking  a  useful  oversight  of 
her.  The  house  went  along  as  if  by  magic.  I  can 
recall  our  reading  a  few  fairy  stories  later  on  about 
palaces  springing  up  in  a  night,  and  she  laughingly 
said — "That  was  the  way  with  our  old  house,  do  you 
remember  ?" 

The  main  room  had  a  wide  fireplace,  the  smaller  one 
beside  it  was  for  Ruth,  and  here  stood  her  cot  and  a 
rude  dressing-table  and  bureau,  which  was  simply  a 
large  box  shelved,  with  a  curtain  drawn  before  it. 
Then  the  old  log  house  was  patched  up  and  made  into 
a  comfortable  kitchen.  There  was  plenty  of  scrubby 
pine  for  firewood  when  one  could  get  nothing  better. 
Mother's  vendue  furniture  comprised  a  large  table, 
with  leaves  supported  with  a  brace  and  let  down  when 
not  in  use,  a  cot,  a  bedstead  set  up  in  the  best  room, 
quite  a  fashion  then,  several  chair  frames  that  could 
be  new  seated  and  various  kitchen  utensils  with  some 
dishes. 


34          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Mr.  Gaynor  was  a  "handy"  man,  an  ingenious 
Yankee.  In  a  couple  of  months  he  was  in  great  de 
mand,  and  his  odd  jobs  supplied  the  family  living, 
for  money  being  a  scarce  commodity,  barter  was  much 
in  favor.  He  was  very  shrewd  at  bargain  making,  but 
he  had  a  pleasant,  half-whimsical  way  with  him  that 
made  and  kept  friends. 

There  were  several  schools  now,  though  it  did  not 
need  a  very  old  resident  to  remember  the  first  one 
opened  at  the  end  of  Mr.  Kinzie's  garden,  where  the 
children  spelled  in  concert  out  of  the  book  found  in  a 
tea  chest,  and  learned  arithmetic  orally.  Then  Mr. 
Watkins  taught  boys  in  a  room  off  the  postoffice,  or 
rather  the  building  used  for  that  and  sundry  other 
purposes. 

A  Miss  Chappel  with  her  friend,  Mary  Barrows, 
came  from  Mackinaw  and  opened  a  school  for  girls 
and  young  children.  Afterward  Miss  Chappel  mar 
ried  the  Presbyterian  minister,  Reverend  Mr.  Porter, 
but  she  still  took  a  warm  interest  in  education.  Miss 
Barrows  went  on  with  the  school. 

We  were  Methodists,  though  for  some  years  every 
denomination  had  been  represented.  A  veteran 
Methodist  preacher,  Rev.  Jesse  Walker,  had  succeeded 
in  building  a  small  frame  church  at  Clark  and  North 
Water  streets.  The  women  were  the  most  regular 
church  goers.  The  children  were  fond  of  the  Sunday 
School,  for  a  large  part  of  the  exercises  consisted  in 
singing. 

Mr.  Gaynor  was  pleased  to  have  Ruth  go.  Big 
boys  were  apt  to  stray  off,  but  I  was  very  regular  now, 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER  35 

and  often  walked  home  with  the  Little  Girl,  and  on 
these  occasions  we  had  fine  fun  cooking  supper.  Then 
we  would  sit  before  the  fire  and  talk  or  read.  Books 
were  not  very  abundant.  Mr.  Gaynor  had  an  old 
Bible,  the  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  a  copy  of  "The  Lady 
of  the  Lake,"  and  a  few  old  school  books.  The  "Pil 
grim's  Progress"  we  found  very  entertaining.  To  us 
it  was  real  travels,  and  the  characters  absolute  people. 

Ruth  came  over  to  the  house  often  on  Saturday,  as 
Miss  Barrows  kept  that  day  for  herself.  She  learned 
to  cook,  to  sew  and  began  to  spin  a  little.  She  knew 
how  to  knit,  except  that  she  did  not  quite  understand 
shaping  a  stocking. 

The  boys  were  rather  rough  and  shy  at  first,  but 
after  a  little  they  quite  adored  her,  and  hunted  up 
curious  things  for  presents.  Homer  was  a  jolly  sort 
of  lad,  Ben  rather  gentle,  but  Chris  rough  and  tor 
menting.  I  used  to  envy  them  the  Saturdays. 

Winter  set  in  early.  What  tremendous  winds  scur 
ried  across  the  lake,  beating  up  great  waves,  or  rushed 
down  from  the  north  and  sometimes  threatened  to 
drown  us  out !  Navigation  had  to  be  given  up  mostly ; 
we  had  not  then  learned  what  fetters  and  warders  to 
put  on  the  inland  sea. 

And  then  the  snow!  The  great  drifts  blowing  in 
from  the  prairies,  the  roads  trodden  down  as  solid  as 
stone,  the  sledges  and  rude  sort  of  sleighs,  the  jingle 
of  bells  for  those  who  were  lucky  enough  to  own  any. 
Part  of  the  time  the  Little  Girl  could  not  venture  out, 
though  Ben  often  brought  her  home  on  his  sled. 

"But  it  is  all  so  beautiful,"  she  said,  looking  over 


36          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

the  wide  prairie  one  Sunday.  "Norman,  what  is  over 
beyond  the  Mississippi?" 

"Mountains  and  mountains." 

Some  hardy  explorers  had  gone  out,  but  we  knew 
nothing  of  the  western  coast  then. 

"And  then?"  with  gentle  insistence. 

"The  Pacific  Coast." 

"The  Delectable  Mountains  and  the  beautiful  land 
where  the  shepherds  are  feeding  their  flocks,  and 
where  there  are  vineyards  and  gardens  and  flowers  of 
every  hue  and  fragrance.  It  is  the  Promised  Land, 
Norman.  Some  day  you  and  I  will  start  and  travel — 
it  will  take  weeks  and  weeks,  and  we  shall  be 
filled  with  delight  at  its  loveliness.  We  will  start 
quite  by  ourselves,  and  keep  our  secret  until  we  do 
go." 

She  looked  gravely  inspired  as  her  eyes  turned 
westward  over  the  wastes  of  snow. 

Years  afterward  we  were  to  go  to  the  beautiful 
land  and  wander  among  orange  groves  and  vines  and 
figs  and  such  flowers  as  we  had  not  dreamed  of  then, 
but  the  name  of  the  country  was  California. 

I  put  my  arm  over  her  shoulder.  How  fair  she  was, 
and  her  sapphire  eyes  shone  with  a  kind  of  unearthly 
light.  Now  and  then  there  came  over  me  a  strange 
sort  of  fear  as  if  sometime  she  might  vanish  away  to 
an  unknown  world  and  I  be  left  alone. 

"You  are  cold,"  I  said;  "come  in  doors." 

The  great  log  had  burned  in  twain  and  now  broke 
with  a  crash,  sending  up  myriad  sparks  while  the  red 
coals  seemed  to  pulsate  like  living  things.  I  stirred 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER  37 

them  up,  brought  the  ends  together,  and  the  next 
moment  we  had  a  magnificent  blaze. 

"Oh,  let  us  pop  some  corn,"  she  cried.  She  was 
down  to  earth  again.  "Yes,  it  does  feel  lovely  here  by 
the  fire.  I'll  go  for  the  corn." 

But  I  thrust  down  my  arm  in  the  great  box  and 
brought  up  two  ears,  so  that  I  could  shell  one  with  the 
other.  Mr.  Gaynor,  with  the  aid  of  the  blacksmith, 
had  made  a  tolerable  popper.  I  drew  out  the  coals 
and  then  shelled  a  handful.  She  held  it  and  shook  it 
from  time  to  time,  and  we  laughed  at  the  snapping 
and  bouncing.  We  took  off  the  lid.  It  wasn't  just  the 
kind  of  corn  to  turn  inside  out,  like  a  white  rose,  but 
some  of  it  was  very  soft  and  velvety.  I  liked  the 
really  roasted  grains  the  best.  She,  girl-like,  preferred 
the  more  delicate  ones.  So  we  laughed  and  ate  our 
fill  until  we  were  thirsty. 

"Oh,"  she  began  suddenly,  "let  us  read  'The  Lady 
of  the  Lake.'  " 

I  did  not  think  I  was  very  fond  of  verse.  It  sug 
gested  the  hymn  book  that  I  looked  over  now  and 
then,  and  that  always  left  an  uncomfortable  feeling  in 
my  mind. 

She  hunted  up  the  book,  and  bringing  a  small  stand 
near  the  fire  lighted  the  candle.  We  had  made  the  blaze 
of  the  pine  torch  standing  up  in  the  corner  do  duty 
until  then. 

"I  am  going  to  read,"  she  began.  "I  liked  it  so  much 
one  day.  But  you  must  sit  up  very  straight  and  not 
go  to  sleep.  This  first  part  about  the  Harp  of  the 
North,  I  don't  care  for,  so  I'll  begin  here. 


38          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"  'The  stag  at  eve  had  drunk  his  fill, 

Where  danced  the  moon  on  Monan's  rill — '  " 

Then  she  suddenly  paused,  'This  is  all  in  Scotland. 
Do  you  know  where  Scotland  is  ?" 

"It  is  north  of  England." 

"We  haven't  liked  England  over  well.  Grand 
mother  Marvin  used  to  talk  about  the  War  of  1812,  for 
grandfather  was  a  sailor  and  was  killed.  And  there 
was  all  the  Revolution.  Do  you  think  we  will  ever 
fight  England  again?" 

"If  we  do  we'll  lick  her  again,"  I  said  with  boyish 
American  grit. 

"I  shouldn't  mind  war  against  the  Indians,"  she 
said  slowly.  "And  I  do  hope  England  will  stay  over 
the  other  side  of  the  ocean,  and — Norman,"  hesitat 
ingly,  "did  you  ever  see  a  real  deer?" 

"Why,  yes.     That's  where  they  get  venison  steak." 

"Oh,  now,  I  will  begin  again." 

She  read  very  clearly  and  with  the  appreciation  that 
gives  the  listener  an  insight  into  the  real  meaning.  I 
could  not  have  gone  to  sleep.  The  chase  stirred  all  my 
blood,  but  I  was  glad  the  deer  escaped.  The  lovely 
lake  among  the  mountains,  the  maiden  in  her  skiff,  the 
encounter,  the  guidance,  the  enchanted  hall,  the  wel 
come  to  the  unknown  knight  of  Snowdoun,  and  the 
promise  of  the  song.  Why,  I  remembered  lines  of  it 
and  said  myself  to  sleep  with  them. 

"That  is  the  end  of  the  first  canto.  Next  Sunday 
night  you  shall  read.  It  sounds  like  music,  doesn't 
it?"  closing  the  old  book. 

"Yes,"  I  assented.    It  still  rang  in  my  ears. 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER  39 

There  was  a  shuffling  and  stamping  at  the  door. 
Mr.  Gaynor  beat  out  his  old  hat  on  the  post. 

"Jerusalem!  The  old  woman's  feather  bed  has 
burst  open  this  time,  I  guess.  Why,  you  can't  see 
your  hand  before  you.  I've  been  in  snows  before,  but 
this  is  about  the  worst  old  tougher  I  ever  encountered. 
Norme — "  he  had  taken  up  the  familiar  name — "thank 
your  stars  you  are  this  near  the  warehouse,  if,  indeed, 
you  can  get  there  at  all  to-morrow  morning.  But  I 
don't  suppose  there'll  be  much  trade,"  with  a  short 
chuckle. 

I  knew  that  was  an  invitation  to  stay  all  night.  I 
had  stayed  twice  before  in  a  pouring  rain. 

"Oh,  let's  see !"  Ruth  sprang  up. 

But  as  she  opened  the  door  a  swirl  of  snow  flew 
nearly  across  the  room,  and  she  staggered. 

It  took  both  of  us  to  shut  the  door  and  then  we  put 
up  the  bar.  For  a  few  moments  it  was  a  primitive 
cyclone.  Ruth  brushed  the  snow  out  of  her  hair  and 
eyes  and  laughed.  Mr.  Gaynor  stirred  up  the  fire. 

"I  hope  you're  satisfied.  You  saw  the  snow,"  he 
said  jocosely. 

The  wind  swept  about  with  a  murderous  howl  as 
only  a  western  prairie  wind  can.  A  flock  of  wolves 
could  not  have  equalled  it  in  the  shrieks.  Then  there 
would  be  a  long  bay  like  that  of  some  great  hound,  or 
a  mocking  whistle  as  if  the  fiends  were  abroad.  We 
really  could  not  talk.  Mr.  Gaynor  helped  himself 
liberally  to  roasted  corn. 

Presently  it  died  down  and  was  solemnly  still.  The 
Yankee  clock  on  the  corner  shelf  in  the  best  room — 


40          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

John  Gaynor  could  not  have  lived  without  that — 
struck  nine. 

"Time  to  be  coverin'  up  fires,"  he  said.  "Sis,  you 
run  to  bed.  Want  to  see  the  snow  again?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  with  laughing  persistence. 

He  opened  the  door  cautiously.  The  great  white 
sheet  was  like  a  wall.  You  could  not  see  it  stir  at  first, 
but  there  was  a  muffled  sound  in  the  air,  an  indescriba 
ble  sound  almost  like  the  echo  of  music  miles  and  miles 
away. 

"It  is  wonderful !"  the  Little  Girl  said,  her  eyes  like 
a  clear  midnight  sky.  "It  is  a  strange  world,  terrible 
sometimes,  too." 

"Better  spread  that  wolf  skin  over  your  bed,"  her 
father  advised  as  he  returned  her  good-night. 

I  crawled  over  to  the  back  part  of  John  Gaynor's 
bed,  though  there  was  a  great  mound  of  feathers  be 
tween  us.  People  were  hale  and  hearty  in  those  days, 
if  they  did  sleep  half  buried  in  feathers.  But  it 
seemed  to  me  all  night  long  that  I  heard  the 
melody  of  the  little  girl's  voice  in  the  sweetest  of 
cadences. 

It  was  the  first  big  snow  of  the  season  and  now  it 
was  mid  December.  One  had  to  begin  at  once  to  dig 
out  window  shutters  and  doors,  but  as  the  doors 
opened  on  the  inside  they  were  more  manageable.  It 
was  still  gray  and  cold  and  one  had  to  be  muffled  up 
to  the  eyes.  We  shovelled  a  path  out  to  the  road,  then 
threw  it  this  way  and  that  until  it  was  a  decent  level 
and  hammered  it  down  with  a  shovel.  Then  we  took 
the  back  to  the  pigpen.  We  heard  the  grunts,  so  they 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER  41 

were  not  frozen.  Indeed  they  had  a  tolerably  warm 
home  provided  for  them. 

Ruth  made  pancakes.  Mr.  Gaynor  had  quite  a  large 
round  ring  of  iron  that  one  put  on  the  coals.  The  pan 
stood  on  the  top  of  this;  a  good  big  pan  it  was,  and 
the  batter  was  poured  out  of  the  pitcher.  Ruth  liked 
small,  dainty  cakes,  her  father  enjoyed  them  about  as 
big  as  a  dinner  plate.  He  had  a  curious  knack  of 
turning  them  without  flopping.  He  liked  them  quite 
thick  as  well,  so  he  baked  several  first. 

"Those  little  fellows  ain't  a  mouthful  for  a  good- 
sized  man!''  he  declared.  "'Twould  keep  you  eating 
all  day." 

We  had  fried  pork  besides,  and  it  was  wonderfully 
good.  There  was  "long  sweetenin',5'  a  thick  sort  of 
molasses.  Sometimes  we  had  a  kind  of  maple  sugar 
syrup.  Ruth  and  I  baked,  and  then  we  sat  down  to 
eat,  and  told  over  the  funny  sayings  that  we  could 
recall.  It  was  very  jolly. 

The  wood  was  piled  up  in  a  sort  of  lean-to  at  the 
side  of  the  house,  so  I  brought  in  a  supply  of  that. 
We  went  out  in  the  street  again  and  a  few  pedestrians 
were  snowballing  each  other.  A  sort  of  drag  with 
four  oxen  came  along  to  break  the  road  a  little.  The 
town  looked  like  a  nest  of  small  white  beehives.  The 
snow  had  blown  off  the  trees,  and  they  stood  bare  and 
black  against  the  sky,  the  finer  branches  as  if  traced 
by  a  pencil. 

I  thought  I  would  venture  down  to  the  warehouse, 
but  I  had  not  gone  far  when  I  met  one  of  the  clerks, 
who  reported  everything  "stiller'n  the  grave,"  so  I 


42  A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

turned  about.  We  played  high  low  Jack,  and  then  I 
took  up  "fox  and  geese"  with  Ruth,  who  couldn't  see 
why  I  should  beat  whether  I  was  fox  or  geese.  So  to 
her  great  delight  I  let  her  pen  up  the  poor  fox,  while 
her  father  sat  by  and  smoked  his  corn  cob  pipe.  Then 
we  shelled  a  lot  of  corn,  and  had  a  late  dinner  of  fried 
chicken,  at  which  Mr.  Gaynor  tried  his  hand,  and  it 
was  excellent.  I  thought  I  should  like  to  see  my 
father  undertake  to  cook! 

Afterward  I  declared  I  must  go  home. 

"Oh,  why  do  you?"  asked  Ruth  pleadingly. 

"I  don't  want  to  wear  my  welcome  out,  I  want  to 
come  again." 

"He  ain't  likely  to,  is  he,  Sis?  Seems  to  me  his 
folks  might  spare  one  boy  when  they  have  so  many. 
Let's  toss  up  a  cent  to  see  which  one.  This  is  for 
Homer." 

"But  I  don't  want  Homer,"  with  pretty  petulance. 

"Ben  or  Chris  ?"  He  was  twirling  the  penny  in  his 
fingers. 

"I  don't  want  any  boy  but  Norman." 

"And  up  at  Hubbard's  they  have  a  mortgage  on 
him.  They're  trying  to  teach  him  how  many  black 
beans  make  five." 

Ruth  knitted  her  pretty  forehead,  then  said  disdain 
fully,  "As  if  he  didn't  know !" 

"Well,  then,  if  a  pig  can  eat  a  bushel  of  corn  in 
twenty-four  hours,  how  much  fat  will  it  put  on  his 
bones?  This  is  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  Mr. 
Gurdon  Hubbard.  I  think  he  has  offered  a  prize  for 
its  solution,"  and  he  winked  at  me. 


THROUGH  THE  WINTER  43 

"A  pig  couldn't  eat  it,"  she  said;  "he  would  be  a 
hog." 

We  both  laughed  at  that. 

"Now,  young  fellow,  if  you  get  lost  in  the  snow, 
don't  blame  us.  We've  given  you  fair  warning.  'Tain't 
likely  the  house  will  blow  over,  seeing  as  it  stood  the 
gale  of  last  night.  And,  reely,  I  don't  believe  it  will 
rain  to-night  and  loosen  the  underpinning,  and  there's 
enough  to  eat." 

In  spite  of  this  friendliness  I  had  to  tear  myself 
away.  But  I  did  get  stuck  in  more  than  one  pile  of 
snow  and  twice  had  to  fight  my  way  through  showers 
of  snowballs. 

We  never  saw  clear  ground  again  until  March. 
There  was  not  much  business  doing  and  the  men 
gathered  in  the  warm  taverns  to  play  cards  and  swap 
stories  and  demolish  political  candidates,  and  praise  or 
blame  Old  Hickory,  as  the  President  was  termed  who 
had  fought  his  country's  battles  and  served  her  for 
nearly  eight  years  in  the  highest  civil  capacity.  That 
the  country  would  go  to  ruin  without  him  was  surely 
predicted ;  that  he  had  brought  her  to  the  verge  of  ruin 
the  other  side  claimed. 

Every  few  days  I  was  at  the  Gaynors',  but  the  Little 
Girl  had  given  up  school.  She  knit  stockings,  she 
sewed  and  cooked,  and  we  both  concluded  "The  Lady 
of  the  Lake"  was  the  loveliest  of  all  lovely  stories. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A   POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE 

SPRING  came  at  last,  though  some  of  us  almost  longed 
for  the  frozen  paths  when  we  sank  inches  deep  in  the 
mud.  We  really  were  a  city  now  and  had  a  mayor 
about  whom  there  was  still  some  contention.  He  had 
been  elected  by  the  small  majority.  There  were  many 
citizens  who  objected  to  this  step  and  even  then 
aldermen  were  looked  upon  with  some  suspicion. 
Where  was  the  money  to  come  from  for  all  the  im 
provements  planned  ?  We  were  going  along  comforta 
bly,  why  not  let  well  enough  alone? 

There  were  a  few  sidewalks,  but  the  streets  were  a 
terror  until  they  settled  a  little.  The  wind  helped; 
there  were  times  when  it  swept  from  the  prairies  and 
brought  the  inspiration  of  the  far  west,  the  promise  of 
what  could  be  done  shortly,  visions  of  acres  of  wheat 
fields  that  were  to  be  powerful  rivals  to  peltries  and 
furs. 

It  was  absolutely  funny  sometimes  to  hear  the  old 
men  talk  who  gathered  about  the  wharf  or  strolled 
round  the  warehouse,  which  was  stretching  out  as  well 


A  POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE  45 

as  running  over.  We,  engaged  in  the  heart  of  things, 
had  our  hands  full,  and  were  not  likely  to  "creak  in 
the  j'ints"  for  lack  of  exercise. 

"This  'ere  Hubbard  'lows  he  knows  most  every 
thin',"  old  Hiram  Green  would  say,  "'sif  the  Lord  had 
gin  him  a  kind  of  far-off  sight  and  called  him  into 
council  t'  settle  things.  Ther's  some  freighting  but  he 
didn't  diskiver  it.  Fore  he  was  born  things  come  down 
from  Detroit  an'  Canady.  'N  I've  hearn  tell  that  some 
old  Frenchman  talked  this  canal  business  long  time 
ago.  Ther's  nothin'  new  under  the  sun — Solomon  said 
so — an'  'though  I  don't  hold  altogether  to  Solomon,  he 
had  a  clear  head  there.  Canal  '1  never  be  built  more'n 
I  be  made  over.  Sho  now !  Country  was  good  enough 
forty  year  ago,  when  you  could  get  your  livin'  huntin' 
and  fishin'  and  were  livin'  neighborly  round  the  block 
house." 

"Ye  ferget  the  Injun  raids,"  said  Abe  Byers.  "Had 
to  git  yer  scalp  fasten'd  on  tight  every  mornin'  er  cut 
yer  hair  short.  An'  what's  livin'  wuth  if  yer  ain't  im- 
provin'?  We  want  a  good  clear  run  to  the  Missis- 
sip—" 

"An'  be  holpen  them  ther'  towns  all  along  the  river. 
Ther's  Saint  Louis  an'  Kasky  an'  Cahooky  an'  down  to 
Noo  Orleens,  all  them  ther'  places  to  the  east  that  are 
braggin'  theirselves  up,  and  we'm  goin'  to  be  jest  a 
sort  o'  isthmus  between  this  and  that,"  balancing  his 
hands  one  way  and  the  other.  "All  they  want  is  er 
right  o'  way  jest  to  tromp  thro'  us,  to  buy  things  down 
yender  and  sell  'em  up  ther',"  nodding  his  head.  "An' 
who  gits  the  money?  I  declar'  to  man  I  ain't  seen  a 


46          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

dollar  in  so  long  that  I'm  'feared  I  should  drop  dead 
if  one  kem  my  way." 

"We  can't  spare  you  yit,  Hi'  Green,  so  we  ain't  goin' 
to  put  that  ther'  kind  o'  sacrifice  in  your  way,"  laughed 
a  good-natured  man.  "Some  day  when  you're  'bout 
a  hundred  they'll  be  writin'  a  story  of  Chicago, 
an'  they'll  want  to  know  these  'ere  old  facts.  So 
you  jes'  keep  'em  safely  stored  in  that  brain  of 
yourn." 

"Can't  many  remember  furder  back?"  returned  the 
old  man,  somewhat  mollified.  "I've  hearn  granpop 
tell  'bout  that  old  black  fellow  thet  come  from  some 
o'  the  islands  down  'bout  Gulf  o'  Mexico  with  his 
injun  wife  when  ther'  were  only  a  few  tradin'  cabins, 
an'  ther'  land  was  free  for  anybody  who  could  give  a 
string  o'  beads  to  an  Injun." 

"Beads  won't  pass  muster  now,  and  I  wonder  if 
Pierre  Menard  didn't  feel  sick  afterward  when  he 
found  what  a  good  bargain  he  had  unloaded  on  John 
Kinzie.  The  Kinzie  tribe  will  be  rich  enough  pres 
ently." 

"An'  then'll  come  a  flood  er  a  fire  and  swoop  down 
on  everything." 

"But  the  land  can't  be  burned  up,  and  it  isn't  giner- 
ally  drowned  out.  Prairie  sand  can  lick  up  a  good 
deal  of  water." 

I  had  been  half  listening  to  the  rambling  disputa 
tions,  and  now  I  turned  from  my  rough  desk  by  the 
window,  which  was  simply  a  board  with  four  legs,  the 
two  front  ones  shortened,  to  Mr.  Harris,  who  stood  by 
his,  that  was  my  admiration,  though  not  long  after- 


A  POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE  47 

ward  it  was  donated  to  me  and  he  had  a  much  finer 
one. 

"Is  it  true  that  Menard  was  sick  of  his  bargain?"  I 
asked  doubtfully. 

"I  believe  he  was,"  Mr.  Harris  laughed.  "I'd  like 
to  buy  it  now  for  fifty  dollars.  I  don't  believe  he  has 
done  any  better.  Le  Mai,  a  French  trader,  bought  part 
of  it.  But  Ouilmette's  old  house  is  still  standing,  stone 
and  logs  and  plaster." 

Michigan  Avenue  came  through  it  long  ago.  The 
Indian  wife  was  quite  admired  in  her  day,  being  tall 
and  straight,  and  though  many  white  women  could  not 
read  in  those  times,  she  was  both  shrewd  and  intelli 
gent. 

"I  must  hunt  it  up,"  I  said.  The  little  girl  was 
always  asking  about  old  places  and  strange  things 
that  we  call  legends  now. 

She  had  wondered  about  the  name.  I  had  inquired 
of  several.  It  was  an  old  Indian  appellation,  it  was 
said,  and  meant  "wild  onion."  Once  the  great  Missis 
sippi  was  called  Chacaqua  or  Divine  River,  and  was 
supposed  to  be  under  the  care  of  the  Thunder  god. 

"Oh,  that  is  very  pretty,"  she  declared,  "though  we 
do  not  believe  there  is  a  god  for  everything,  and  gods 
living  in  various  places." 

"And  another  legend  is  that  a  great  tribe  of  Tama- 
roras  always  called  their  chiefs  by  this  title  'Che- 
caqua.' ''' 

"That  sounds  much  better  than  a  fiery-smelling 
vegetable,"  the  lines  about  her  mouth  settling  in  a 
smile. 


48          A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"And  among  the  Sacs  it  was  the  name  of  one 
of  their  valiant  warriors — 'He  that  stands  by  a 
tree.'  " 

"That  is  really  fine.  A  tall  straight  Indian  stand 
ing  by  a  tree !  But  you  have  few  such  splendid  trees 
as  we  have  at  home." 

That  was  true  enough.  The  cottonwood  flourished, 
but  except  for  some  miles  eastward  and  a  long  dis 
tance  to  the  north  there  was  little  fine  timber. 

The  Little  Girl  and  I  generally  took  a  walk  on  Sun 
day  afternoon  after  the  Sunday  School  ended.  Some 
of  the  churches  had  a  sermon  afterward,  the  Metho 
dists  had  theirs  in  the  evening.  It  was  quite  nice 
walking  now,  and  gardens  had  been  put  in  orderly 
trim.  We  hunted  up  the  old  Ouilmette  cabin,  now  a 
heap  of  ruins.  The  family  had  dispersed.  But  Mr. 
Kinzie  had  made  a  very  home-like  place  of  the  old 
estate. 

"Sometime  we  will  go  and  ask  him  to  tell  us  about 
those  old  times,"  I  said. 

Then  there  was  Dr.  Harmon's.  That  was  really 
fine.  A  sod  fence  had  been  put  up  around  it  and  he 
had  planted  fruit  trees  and  blossoming  shrubbery  and 
made  a  pretty  park  of  it.  People  often  strolled  along 
this  south  path  to  the  settlement  just  to  view  the 
beauty. 

Householders  were  beginning  to  cultivate  flowers 
somewhat,  and  roses  were  trained  over  doors  and 
porches.  But  the  Little  Girl  sighed  for  the  wild  flowers 
of  her  native  State,  many  of  which  I  knew  nothing 
about.  I  used  to  like  to  hear  her  talk  of  the  trailing 


A  POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE  49 

arbutus  and  the  violets  that  sprang  up  among  the 
grass. 

She  began  to  go  to  school  again.  One  afternoon  in 
a  week  she  came  over  to  our  house  and  mother  taught 
her  sewing  and  spinning  on  the  little  wheel.  She 
always  stayed  that  night  and  my  brother  Ben  grew 
almost  as  fond  of  her  as  I.  Dan  noticed  her  now  and 
then,  but  she  was  quite  too  small  for  him.  He  was  a 
great  favorite  with  the  older  girls,  and  was  always 
asked  to  their  merry  makings. 

"I  do  hope  he  will  marry  young,"  said  mother.  "I'm 
tired  of  such  a  lot  of  men  kind  about  the  house,  an' 
the  way  they  go  through  stockings!  The  heels  look 
as  if  they  had  been  gnawed  out  by  rats." 

She  had  a  way  of  cutting  them  out,  picking  up  some 
stitches  and  knitting  in  new  heels.  Ruth  thought  this 
a  great  achievement  and  wanted  to  learn  how. 

"'Twould  bother  your  little  brains  out,"  said  mother 
with  a  sort  of  amused  kindliness. 

"Are  my  brains  very  small?"  she  asked  gravely. 

"Not  smaller  than  common.  You're  only  a  little 
girl.  You'll  grow." 

"And  my  brains  will  grow  too  ?  Then  I  shall  know  a 
great  deal  more.  Suppose  one  didn't  have  any  brains?" 

"Then  he'd  be  an  idjit.  Most  people  have  some, 
but  they're  not  always  put  to  a  good  use.  Don't  you 
worry,  little  one.  You'll  have  brains  enough." 

My  father,  too,  grew  fond  of  her,  and  I  think  was 
pleased  to  have  her  ask  questions.  It  always  seemed 
to  me  the  house  took  on  a  different  aspect  when  she 
was  there  and  the  boys  were  more  gentle. 


50          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Mr.  Gaynor  had  planted  his  prairie  strip  with  wheat, 
and  was  surprised  at  its  astonishing  fertility.  Even 
then  in  a  very  dry  time  we  practised  a  sort  of  irriga 
tion,  wide  spaces  being  left  where  you  could  drive 
oxen  and  a  hogshead  of  water  through,  letting  it  run 
out  plentifully. 

One  of  the  next  things  that  attracted  attention  was 
the  raising  of  pigs.  Freighting  up  the  lake  and  to 
Buffalo  continued  about  as  before.  Everything  else  was 
at  a  standstill.  Not  only  was  the  Presidential  election 
approaching  but  that  for  representatives.  Stephen  A. 
Douglas  and  John  T.  Stuart  were  competing  candi 
dates,  and  stumped  all  the  sparse  towns  where  there 
were  any  voters. 

Davis  was  most  complimentary  to  the  new  town, 
and  even  predicted  "that  the  children  of  to-day  would 
see  a  city  of  fifty  thousand  inhabitants  before  they 
died." 

This  was  received  with  yells  of  derision  and  much 
shouting  of  the  catch  words  of  the  day. 

"Town  lots!  town  lots!  Shortest  route  through  to 
China.  Will  it  be  duck  or  drakes?" — in  reference  to 
the  mud  and  a  slight  hit  at  the  men. 

Even  the  women  quarrelled  about  their  candidates 
and  for  weeks  would  pass  each  other  by  with  disdain. 
Harrison  was  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Indian  wars — 
what  had  Martin  Van  Buren  done  to  commend  him  to 
the  patriots  of  the  country? 

We  sat  out  on  the  doorstep  one  evening.  Mr. 
Gaynor  was  down  to  the  old  Green  Tree  Tavern, 
though  now  it  had  taken  on  the  more  dignified  appella- 


A  POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE  51 

tion  of  hotel.  Quite  a  party  of  Whigs  assembled 
there. 

"Norman,"  the  Little  Girl  began  after  a  long  silence, 
"are  you  a  Whig  or  a  Democrat?" 

"I" — I  seldom  thought  of  politics  except  to  be 
amused  at  the  old  men  "jawin' "  about  it  when  they 
hung  around  the  warehouse  and  passed  opinions  on 
the  boats  and  the  truck. 

"Yes,  you  must  be  one  or  the  other,"  a  little 
severely. 

"But  I  don't  need  to  until  I  am  twenty-one.  I  can't 
vote  before  that." 

"But  you  can  make  up  your  mind." 

"Father  is  a  great  Jackson  man.  He  would  not 
mind  if  they  put  him  in  again.  And  he  has  been  a 
brave  soldier.  Look  at  the  Indian  wars,  and  that 
splendid  battle  of  New  Orleans!  And  Dan  believes 
in  him.  They  don't  seem  to  know  much  about  this 
new  man." 

"Father  is  a  Whig.  I  am  too,"  holding  up  her  head 
proudly.  "They  are  the  party  that  wanted  us  to  be 
free  of  England,  and  they  fought  for  liberty/' 

"I  think  there  wasn't  much  difference  of  opinion 
then.  They  were  all  patriots." 

"Then  how  did  they  come  to  differ?" 

"Well — "  I  really  did  not  know,  and  hesitated. 

"The  Whigs  don't  believe  in  slavery." 

"Father  doesn't  either,"  I  said  with  a  touch  of 
triumph. 

"And  there  are  a  good  many  other  things.  They 
have  a  hero  for  a  candidate,  while  the  Democrats  have 


52          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

put  up  a  dandy,  who  curls  his  hair  and  scents  his  hand 
kerchief." 

Many  puerile  objections  were  made  to  the  Demo 
cratic  candidate. 

"But  he  has  been  in  the  Senate,  and  he  has  been 
Minister  abroad — to  England,  and  is  a  gentleman,"  I 
retorted. 

"Why  do  we  want  a  Minister  to  England  ?"  she  re 
turned  with  a  sort  of  royal  indifference.  "Tell  me 
that?" 

"Countries  always  send  Ministers  to  each  other. 
There  are  questions  coming  up  all  the  time  that  have 
to  be  settled." 

"I  thought  everything  was  settled  in  the  last  war." 

"I'll  try  and  find  out.  I'm  paying  more  attention  to 
business  than  to  politics.  And  there  are  two  sides  to 
everything,  to  all  great  questions." 

I  thought  this  was  rather  a  fine  way  of  ending  the 
argument.  Then  a  quick  step  came  pattering  down 
the  board  walk. 

"I  declare  the  good  Lord  never  said  a  truer  thing 
than  that  he  made  man  upright  and  he  sought  out 
many  inventions.  I'm  not  quite  sure  the  Lord  said 
that  either.  I  haven't  read  the  Bible  much  latterly,  but 
'pears  to  me  there's  no  end  of  foolish  and  dishonest 
inventions  when  a  man  talks  politics.  There's  been 
the  greatest  lot  of  idiots  up  there  to-night.  If  I  didn't 
know  more  than  some  of  'em  I'd  hold  my  tongue  for 
ever.  I  don't  have  much  to  say  in  this  crowd  anyhow. 
Twouldn't  be  quite  safe,  seein'  as  I'm  a  Yankee.  I'll 
do  my  part  when  voting  comes,  and  I  ain't  bragging 


A  POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE  53 

about  it,  either.  Votes  can  talk  then.  Hillo,  young 
fellow,  I  believe  your  folks  are  on  the  other  side.  Well 
— we'll  just  pass  the  time  of  day  till  the  new  man 
gets  in.  I've  observed  then  the  political  pot  simmers 
down  wonderfully  and  you  can  shake  hands  across  it 
without  getting  steam  burned.  Good-night,  I  must  go 
shut  up  my  chickens." 

I  was  standing  up.  "And  I  must  go.  Good-night," 
I  said. 

She  had  been  sitting  on  a  little  bench  inside  the 
porch.  Now  she  rose  and  shook  the  curls  out  of  her 
eyes,  and  responded  in  the  coolest  fashion. 

I  walked  away  rather  dazed.  It  had  not  occurred 
to  me  that  anything  could  happen  between  the  Little 
Girl  and  myself.  And  why  should  we  be  less  friends 
for  the  sake  of  two  strangers  who  were  really  nothing 
to  us? 

Father  and  Dan  were  coming  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion  and  we  just  met  at  the  path  to  the  doorway. 

"Where  you  been,  Norme?"  Dan  inquired  roughly. 
"With  that  ther'  blasted  Whig  from  Yankeeland,  lis- 
tenin'  an'  believin'  all  sorts  of  lies.  See  here,  you're 
born  of  good,  staunch,  Democratic  people,  and  you'll 
vote  that  ticket  when  you're  of  age  er  I'll  know  the 
reason  why,"  and  he  seized  me  by  the  ear. 

"Dan!"  exclaimed  father,  in  a  stern  voice,  loosing 
his  hand,  "you've  been  drinking  too  much  whiskey. 
I'm  ashamed  of  you !  You  are  taking  just  the  way  to 
make  people  despise  the  Democrats.  Go  to  bed  and 
sober  up  and  don't  let  me  see  you  in  this  condition 
again  or  I'll  horsewhip  you.  Not  a  word,  sir." 


54          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Dan  went  shuffling  off,  grumbling  to  himself. 

It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  young  men  to  drink, 
but  the  self-respecting  class  was  seldom  drunk. 

"I  wish  they'd  put  a  President  in  for  ten  years," 
said  father  angrily.  "I  don't  know  but  we  will  begin 
to  fight  each  other  pretty  soon.  Let  Dan  get  asleep 
before  you  go  upstairs,  and  don't  make  no  note  of  it  in 
the  morning.  Dan's  a  nice  lad,  generally  speaking." 

"What  is  the  great  difference  between  the  parties?" 
I  inquired. 

"Well — I'll  be  hanged  if  I  know,  only  't  seems  as 
if  men  wanted  to  make  it  wider  all  the  time.  Ther's 
high  and  low  tariff,  and  I  can't  tell  which  is  best. 
Then  ther's  slavery,  and  northern  Democrats  are  pretty 
much  agin  that.  And  money — one  paper  says  one 
thing,  one  the  other.  Both  men  are  good  enough  fur's 
I  can  see.  From  the  bottom  of  my  soul  I  wish  Tippe- 
canoe  had  been  our  candidate  and  a  Democrat.  Ther's 
the  battle  of  Miami  Rapids  and  Tippecanoe  and  Fort 
Meigs  and  the  Thames.  He's  a  good,  brave  soldier, 
and  he's  shown  a  wise  head  about  Indian  affairs  and 
such,  and  he's  been  to  Congress.  I'd  like  it  to  be  so 
you  could  vote  for  the  best  fellow.  But  it's  party, 
party.  Thank  the  Lord  you're  not  old  enough  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  it." 

Dan  was  all  right  the  next  morning,  but  not  as 
boisterous  as  usual.  I  went  over  to  the  warehouse  in 
a  rather  troubled  frame  of  mind,  with  a  misgiving  that 
I  had  been  warned  on  both  sides.  At  our  nooning 
hour  I  questioned  Mr.  Harris  about  the  merits  of  each 
party. 


A  POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE  55 

"You'd  better  read  up  history  and  the  Constitution 
and  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  see  where 
you  come  out.  I  guess  there'll  always  be  two  parties. 
Now  England's  a  monarchy  and  there's  two  parties 
there.  Sometimes  one  rules  the  House  of  Commons, 
sometimes  the  other.  But  it  is  a  queer  thing  that  re 
forms  start  with  the  weaker  party  and  have  a  hard 
time  to  get  a  hearing,  but  they  grow  and  grow,  and 
one  is  always  a  check  on  the  other.  Yes,  you're  old 
enough  to  begin  to  understand  some  of  these  things, 
but  don't  get  to  be  a  rabid  politician,  or  you'll  be 
served  with  walking-papers ;"  and  he  laughed. 

Thursday  Ruth  Gaynor  went  home  direct  from 
school  and  did  not  take  her  sewing  lesson. 

"I  do  wonder  what  has  happened  to  Ruth,"  mother 
said  when  I  came  home  to  supper.  "Was  she  well  last 
night?  You  were  there?" 

"Yes,  she  was  well.  She  did  not  say  anything 
about  not  coming." 

"She'll  be  in  then  to-morrow,  I  reckon." 

I  had  a  guilty  feeling.  What  if  it  spoiled  the  friend 
ship?  I  wanted  to  go  down  at  noon,  but  pride  held 
me  back.  She  was  more  than  any  political  feeling — 
why  for  her  sake  I  would  have  been  Whig  or  any 
thing. 

I  saw  her  in  Sunday  School  and  my  heart  gave  a 
great  bound.  Her's  was  a  girls'  class  across  the  room. 
She  had  on  a  white  frock  and  a  pretty  white  ruffled 
sunbonnet.  The  lesson  dragged,  the  singing  lost  its 
melody,  but  at  last  came  the  benediction.  The  children 
loitered  in  little  groups  outside.  I  hung  back,  glad  to 


56          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

talk  to  a  boy  about  muskrat  trapping.  Ben  went  up 
to  her  boldly. 

"Why  didn't  you  come?  We  missed  you  so. 
Mother  couldn't  think  what  got  yer." 

"Got  yer,"  she  returned  with  a  soft  little  laugh. 
"What  kind  of  an  animal  is  it?" 

Ben's  face  was  scarlet.  We  were  used  to  the  town 
vernacular,  which  was  a  conglomeration  of  Virginia, 
Kentucky,  trapper  and  rough  boatman's  speech,  as  is 
often  the  case  with  immigrant  tongue.  She  was 
dainty  in  all  she  did  and  said. 

"Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean,"  with  a  protesting 
boyish  gesture.  "Come  home  with  us  now.  Even  pop 
wondered  what  if  you  were  sick." 

"No — I  was  busy.  I  was  trying  to  do — some  things, 
and—" 

I  came  around  the  other  side,  and  gained  courage 
enough  to  look  in  the  sunbonnet.  A  tumultuous  color 
hovered  over  the  sweet  face,  the  lips  had  fluttering 
curves,  the  long  lashes  glittered  with  the  light  shining 
through.  I  could  not  have  put  it  in  words,  but  it  was 
one  of  the  remembrances  I  set  along  side  of  my  first 
glance  of  her.  Her  hand  hung  down  by  her  side,  a 
slim  little  hand,  not  much  sunburned.  She  kept  her 
fair  complexion  through  wind  and  sun. 

A  sudden  accession  of  courage  seized  me,  and  I 
caught  it  very  gently.  It  was  not  withdrawn,  and  my 
heart  went  up  with  a  bound,  though  she  was  answer 
ing  Ben. 

"You'll  come  home  with  us  now.  Coax  her,  Norme. 
Ther'  was  the  grandest  chicken  potpie  for  dinner,  an' 


A  POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE  57 

some  left,  an'  I  picked  berries  for  Mr.  Kinzie,  an'  ther's 
lots  of  'em  left.  They're  lickin'  good." 

"Don't  be  so  economical  with  your  letters,  Ben," 
she  returned  drolly.  "And  what  is  lickin'  good?" 

"As  if  any  one  with  half  a  wit  couldn't  guess!" 
returned  Ben  with  a  very  red  face.  "Why,  when  you 
want  to  lick  off  your  lips  and  your  fingers,  maybe," 
emphasizing  the  words  he  seldom  took  the  trouble  to 
pronounce  correctly.  "And — the  batter  left  in  the  cake 
dish,  though  Chris  always  seizes  on  that  now." 

She  gave  a  soft  ripple  of  laughter. 

"Say — "  Bessie  Hale  pushed  in  front  of  us,  a  big, 
energetic  girl  with  reddish  hair  and  flaming  red 
cheeks,  fanning  herself  with  the  skirt  of  her  frock — 
"ther's  goin'  to  be  a  frolic  out  in  the  woods  if  they  can 
git  things  and  folks  together.  Take  your  dinner  an' 
swings  put  up,  an'  race  an'  run,  an'  have  a  good  time. 
I  heard  Mis'  Eastman  talkin'.  It'll  be  all  planned  out 
by  next  Sunday  an'  word  give  out.  All  the  boys  an' 
girls  an'  mothers  an'  gran'  ma'ams,  and  jes'  to  have 
fun  all  day  long." 

I  had  heard  a  whisper  of  it,  and  some  dissenting 
voices  among  the  stricter  ones  as  to  whether  it  really 
was  religious.  Camp  meetings  had  been  held,  but  a 
picnic ! 

All  the  group  of  children  talked  at  once  and  kept 
going  on  in  a  huddle  until  a  few  discovered  they  were 
in  the  wrong  direction,  and  then  thinned  out  reluc 
tantly.  We  kept  so  close  to  Ruth  that,  in  a  manner, 
we  impelled  her  to  turn  up  our  street,  though  it  looked 
not  much  more  than  a  lane. 


58          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Mother  sat  out  on  the  bench  in  a  white  sort  of 
short  gown  with  a  ruffle  about  the  neck,  and  a  rather 
coarse  white  muslin  apron,  but  she  looked  cool  and 
sweet. 

"Oh,  Ruth,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  was  afraid  you  were 
sick  or  something.  What  happened?" 

"Did  you  miss  me  so  much?  I  am  afraid  of  being 
a  trouble  sometimes,"  she  returned  with  a  delicate  eva 
sion  that  I  noticed. 

"Well,  you  needn't  be;  that's  some  of  your  father's 
notions.  An'  a  girl  without  a  mother  needs  a  lot  of 
training,  though  I  must  say  you  do  pick  up  things 
mighty  easy.  Oh,  boys,  don't  eat  her  up  jes'  if  you 
hadn't  had  a  dinner." 

"If  you  poured  some  milk  over  her  you  could  eat 
her  up,"  said  Chris,  laughing,  "an'  some  sugar  on  top 
of  her  head." 

"Think  of  the  sticky  mess  in  my  hair!" 

"Oh,  but  you'd  jes'  dissolve  an'  be  like — "  rolling  his 
eyes  about  to  assist  his  brain  in  capturing  a  compari 
son — "like  a  lovely  pudding." 

"What  an  idea !"  and  Ben  made  a  wry  face. 

"Bring  out  a  stool,"  said  mother.  "So  M'liss  Hatch 
comes  now.  Is  she  good  for  anything?" 

"Yes,  I  like  her  ever  so  much.  Aunt  Becky  grew 
very  cross  and  she  and  father  had  some  words,  and 
M'liss  likes  to  show  me  about  things.  We  have  real 
good  times  when  I'm  home  from  school." 

Mother  nodded.    "She  goes  home  at  night?" 

"Yes." 

"She's  got  a  beau.    Pa'son  Walker's  Visin'  young 


A  POLITICAL  DIFFERENCE  59 

people  to  marry,  an'  it  does  smart  up  the  young  fel 
lows  and  keep  them  out  of  taverns.  An'  then  they  get 
thinking  'bout  a  house.  Well,  you  jes'  make  the  most 
out  of  M'liss.  Is  your  father's  garden  turning  out 
much?  We've  had  quite  a  dry  spell." 

"Father  had  it  all  wet  one  day.  Yes,  it  is  in  good 
order.  I  hope  next  year  we'll  have  ever  so  many 
berries." 

"Chicago  won't  ever  be  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  but 
Adam  an'  Eve  were  turned  out  of  that.  Even  a 
thistle  wouldn't  grow  here  unless  you  planted  and 
watered  it.  What  people  ever  see  in  this  place  to  come 
an'  settle  passes  me ;  an'  ther's  so  many  splendid  places 
in  the  world  where  things  grow  fairly  wild.  I  don't 
wonder  people  sell  out  an'  go  away." 

"We're  going  to  be  a  big  port  sometime,"  I  an 
nounced. 

"Sho,  that's  the  men's  talk.  I've  heard  men  talk 
before.  Where's  all  the  people  comin'  from,  I'd  like 
to  know?  To  hear  em  brag  sometimes  you'd  think 
they'd  be  crossin'  the  Rocky  Mountains  'cause  there 
wasn't  any  room  on  this  side!" 

Mother  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed. 

Father  was  walking  up  the  path  and  then  she  de 
clared  she  must  get  supper. 

"Oh,  let  me  put  on  the  dishes,"  and  Ruth  rose,  hang 
ing  her  bonnet  carefully  on  a  wooden  peg. 

Father  greeted  her  cordially  and  said  it  had  been  a 
full  month  since  he  set  eyes  on  her.  We  all  filed  in 
doors,  even  to  the  big  tiger  cat,  who  kept  following 
Ruth  about  wistfully.  The  boys  never  tormented  him 


60          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

when  Ruth  was  around.  They  came  to  the  table  with 
cleaner  hands,  and  were  much  more  mannerly,  I 
noticed. 

We  had  a  rather  jolly  meal  even  if  it  was  Sunday. 
Afterward  we  sung  some  hymns.  Mother  was  very 
fond  of  them.  Then  I  walked  home  with  Ruth, 
though  Ben  glanced  at  us  large-eyed  and  wistful. 

"Were  you  very — very  much  affronted?"  I  asked, 
as  we  were  nearing  her  house. 

She  seemed  considering. 

"Because,"  in  a  hurried  voice,  as  if  I  wasn't  quite 
sure  I  was  right — "I've  thought  it  over.  I'd  just  as 
leave  be  a  Whig  as  not." 

"I  shouldn't  like  you  to  quarrel  with  father." 

"I'm  not  going  to,"  I  protested  earnestly.  "And — I 
want  to  be  good  friends." 

"Oh,  I  want  us  always  to  be  good  friends,"  and  the 
strong  sweetness  of  her  tone  enraptured  me. 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  so  we  renewed  our 
friendship. 


CHAPTER   V 

OF   COMMON   DAILY  THINGS 

THE  picnic  was  a  grand  event,  a  new  sort  of  entertain 
ment.  Some  distance  to  the  southeast  was  the  nearest 
real  woods  about  us.  Here  and  there  would  be  a  belt 
of  scrubby  pines,  good  for  little  besides  firewood,  or 
a  group  of  cottonwood  trees.  But  this  might  justly 
be  called  a  forest. 

Tree  planting  had  aroused  no  especial  interest  ex 
cept  the  fruit  and  shade  trees  in  some  of  the  newer 
residences.  A  wide  clearing  was  considered  a  greater 
protection  in  the  earlier  days,  as  one  could  sight  roving 
bands  of  Indians  when  there  was  nothing  to  shelter 
them. 

One  would  have  thought  from  the  discussions  that 
the  question  of  salvation  was  imperilled  by  this  new 
form  of  dissipation.  Still  the  day  was  carried  for  it, 
and  some  of  the  old  people  and  most  of  the  provision 
went  out  in  great  ox  carts.  But  the  children  and 
young  people  did  not  mind  walking  and  were  full  of 
spirit  and  eagerness. 

I  managed  to  get  off  for  half  a  day.  Fortunately, 
the  sun  went  under  a  cloud  now  and  then,  for  which 
I  was  thankful  as  I  hurried  along.  And  when  I  came 


6  2          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

in  sight  I  stood  still  a  moment  with  a  strange  awe, 
touched  by  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  The  trees  had 
grown  up  tall  and  straight,  with  no  troublesome  under 
brush.  The  branches  made  arches  overhead  and 
waved  to  and  fro  against  the  sky,  that  in  most  places 
had  a  background  of  faint  gray,  where  darker  clouds 
went  drifting  over  it,  or  here  and  there  parted  to  show 
a  rift  of  blue.  I  did  not  know  about  dryads  or  wood 
nymphs  in  those  days,  but  the  figures  flitting  about 
gave  me  a  curious  unreal  sense,  as  if  they  could 
scarcely  be  human  beings.  As  I  came  nearer  the 
hum  of  the  voices  and  the  swish  of  the  two  swings 
through  a  clear  path,  barely  escaping  the  rugged  tree 
boles  or  a  drooping  branch,  mingled  with  the  shout  of 
some  daring  boy  who  twisted  a  little  and  escaped 
damage. 

There  had  been  a  fire  built,  and  the  uprights  with 
the  crotch  were  standing  but  the  crosspiece  had 
caught  the  blaze  at  last  and  fallen  except  at  one  end. 
A  heap  of  ashes,  and  charred  sticks  lying  about  the 
edge  looked  rather  melancholy,  yet  I  had  seen  the  like 
many  a  time  when  a  band  of  roving  Indians,  tired  with 
a  long  journey,  had  stopped  to  cook  a  meal.  There 
were  groups  of  women  together,  some  of  them  with 
babies,  and  others  with  their  knitting,  while  they  sang 
the  hymns  most  in  vogue  at  that  day.  One  haunts  me 
through  all  this  lapse  of  time: 

"Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  Cross, 

A  follower  of  the  Lamb, 
And  shall  I  blush  to  own  His  cause 
Or  fear  to  speak  His  name?" 


OF   COMMON   DAILY   THINGS  63 

and  it  always  suggests  those  old  pioneer  missionaries 
of  the  Roman  Church,,  who  braved  all  dangers  and 
even  death  to  carry  the  Gospel  to  the  Indians  of  the 
far  west. 

The  children  were  having  a  grand  time,  as  I  both 
heard  and  saw,  as  I  came  nearer.  They  were  playing 
"tag,"  from  point  to  point,  running  in  and  out  in  a 
fashion  that  might  have  designed  a  labyrinth,  groups 
sitting  on  the  dry  leaves  playing  mumble  peg,  a  few 
big  boys  outside  tossing  up  pennies.  Then  a  girl  hold 
ing  some  of  her  compeers  in  awe  with  a  ghost  story. 
What  an  odd,  pretty  picture  it  was! 

"Oh,  Norman,  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  come," 
and  a  gentle  step  ran  up  behind  me  and  caught  my 
arm.  I  had  been  peering  about  for  her. 

"It  is  a  long  walk,"  I  said,  "and  through  the  heat." 

"Yes,  but  it  is  lovely  here.  Oh,  you'll  want  to  sit 
down  and  rest." 

"That  ain't  a  bit  fair,  Ruth  Gaynor!  You'll  break 
up  the  play." 

"Here's  Betty  March — she'll  take  my  place." 

"Oh,  yes,  you're  very  fine  going  off  with  a  boy. 
Betty  don't  know  how  to  play." 

"If  it's  telling  riddles,  I  guess  I  do,"  rather  indig 
nantly,  returned  Betty. 

"But  it's  guessing  them." 

"I  don't  believe  that'll  puzzle  me.  I've  heard  every 
riddle  in  Chicago." 

"Oh!  Oh!"  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices  in  chorus. 

We  passed  on. 

"I've  had  a  nice,  nice  time.    Do  you  want  to  swing?" 


64          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"No,"  I  returned.  "Let  us  find  a  cool  place  and 
sit  down." 

There  were  older  couples  who  had  achieved  such  a 
search  and  were  enjoying  it  evidently.  We  plunged  a 
little  deeper  in  the  forest. 

"Oh,  I  do  love  trees  so  much,  a  great  woods  full 
of  them.  I  wish  they  grew  up  all  around  the  town." 

I  was  used  to  its  barrenness,  but  the  beauty  and 
awe  of  this  touched  me.  A  woodpecker  ran  up  and 
down  a  tree,  surveying  it  with  his  beady  black  eyes 
and  drumming  with  his  bill.  Then  he  paused,  turned 
his  head  this  way  and  that  with  a  dainty  sort  of  assur 
ance,  and  suddenly  drew  a  worm  out  of  his  snug  nest 
and  away  he  flew.  We  looked  at  each  other  and 
laughed. 

Then  a  squirrel  came  scampering  along  and  eyed  us 
suspiciously,  but  as  we  did  not  stir  he  grew  braver. 
How  pretty  he  was  with  his  bushy  tail  like  a  waving 
plume. 

"Oh,  I  wish  I  had  a  bit  of  bread,"  cried  Ruth,  "I 
have  two  quite  tame  ones  at  home.  They  beg  so 
prettily  that  I  love  to  tease  them  a  little,  and  sometimes 
I  hide  the  bread  to  see  them  hunt  for  it.  They  have  a 
home  in  that  old  gnarled  tree.  I  found  it  out  one 
time,  and  I  was  afraid  the  cat  would  get  at  them." 

"Oh,  they  would  fight  the  cat  if  she  poked  her  nose 
in  the  hole." 

"I  hope  they  would." 

Great  black  ants  scurried  about  this  way  and  that, 
listening  or  thinking,  it  seemed,  and  occasionally  one 
dragged  a  burden  as  big  as  himself.  What  queer  peo- 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  65 

pie  they  were!  And,  later  on,  when  I  came  to  know- 
more  about  them,  I  was  filled  with  a  curious  ad 
miration. 

The  soft  wind  cradled  in  the  green  branches  mur 
mured  its  wonderful  song,  the  keynote  to  so  many 
melodies.  It  seemed  as  if  we  had  gone  into  some  en 
chanted  country. 

"It  is  a  real  forest,"  she  said  musingly.  "And  now 
one  need  not  be  afraid  of  Indians — "  yet  she  peered 
about  suspiciously. 

"But  there  might  be  a  bear,"  I  said,  teasingly. 

"A  bear !"  Her  eyes  were  large  with  fright  and  she 
caught  my  arm.  "Are  there  really  bears — " 

"There  was  one  not  so  very  long  ago.  He  made 
havoc  with  some  pigs  and  the  men  turned  out  for  a 
bear  hunt.  You  see  there's  no  hiding  place  for  them 
on  the  prairies,  so  he  ran  off  into  these  woods,  and  they 
caught  him  indulging  in  a  comfortable  rest.  But  he  had 
sharp  ears  and  when  he  found  he  was  pursued  he 
climbed  up  a  tree." 

"Oh,  that  was  bright  and  funny  too,"  laughing. 

"But  a  few  shots  dislodged  him.  There  was  quite 
an  excitement.  So  we  had  plenty  of  bear  steak." 

"Oh,  poor  fellow,"  pityingly. 

"And  they  dressed  the  hide  and  gave  it  to  the 
mayor — a  real  native  robe,  not  quite  a  buffalo, 
though." 

"Did  any  others  come?" 

"To  the  funeral?  Oh,  no.  He  must  have  strayed 
away  from  his  compeers.  But  there  are  plenty  of 
wolves." 


66         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Yes,  father  killed  one  in  the  winter  that  was 
prowling  round." 

She  leaned  her  head  down  on  my  shoulder.  How 
lovely  and  peaceful  it  was.  I  could  have  drowsed  oil, 
but  a  voice  roused  me. 

"Ruth,  Ruth  Gaynor?"  with  a  boyish  cadence, 

"Oh,"  opening  her  eyes,  then  listening.  "That's 
Ben's  voice,  isn't  it?  I  promised  to  walk  with  him  if 
he  would  swing  the  children.  Can't  we  three  walk  to 
gether  if  you  are  rested?  And  I  believe  I  went  to 
sleep.  Norman,  this  wood  is  like  reading  beautiful 
poetry.  Oh,  do  you  remember  'The  Lady  of  the 
Lake'?" 

"Ruth  Gaynor?" 

She  gave  a  pretty  call  as  we  rose.  Then  glancing 
around,  we  started  toward  a  little  opening  and  pres 
ently  heard  a  crunch  on  the  leafy  turf,  and  discerned 
a  figure  going  in  a  direction  that  would  have  taken 
him  quite  by  us,  only  I  called,  rather  against  my  will. 

"Hello,  Norme!  When  did  you  come?"  He  cer 
tainly  did  look  disappointed. 

"Not  long  ago,"  I  said.    "How  splendid  it  all  is !" 

"Well,  I  haven't  had  much  of  the  splendor,  gathering 
wood  and  waiting  on  mother  and  the  women  and 
swinging  children.  You  better  go  and  do  some  of  the 
work." 

"Oh,  I  just  came  for  pleasure.  Remember,  I'm  in  a 
stuffy  warehouse  six  days  in  the  week." 

"Well,  ain't  I  in  school  an'  chopping  wood  an'  bring 
ing  water  and  hoeing  weeds  and  busy  enough,  I  can 
tell  you.  I'd  like  to  be  down  there  among  the  boats. 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  67 

An'  I'm  tired.  I've  been  hunting  these  woods  all  over 
for  you." 

"Several  squirrels  found  us  and  some  birds  came  and 
sung  to  us.  Well,  let  us  sit  down  again.  Poor  tired 
Ben!" 

Her  tone  was  very  sweet  with  no  mockery  in  it. 
Ben  dropped  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  and  stretched  him 
self  out.  What  a  big  boy  he  was  getting  to  be ! 

Ruth  sat  down  near  him,  I  on  the  other  side.  She 
delicately  pushed  the  hair  from  his  warm  forehead  and 
smiled  in  his  eyes. 

"Did  you  swing  all  that  little  crew?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  and  twice  as  many  more.  I  think  there  are 
four  hundred  children  on  this  picnic." 

"Half  of  the  children  in  Chicago.  How  do  you  sup 
pose  we  found  enough  for  them  to  eat?" 

Ben  laughed  with  restored  good  nature.  He  was 
never  cross  long  at  a  time. 

Then  they  began  to  relate  the  funny  mishaps,  and  we 
did  not  lack  for  merriment.  Ruth  had  so  many  shrewd 
comparisons.  But  a  group  of  children  found  us  out. 

"They  want  us  all  to  git  together,"  announced  a 
shock-headed  boy.  "Mr.  Walker's  goin'  to  hev'  a 
meetin'." 

They  were  gathering  from  near  and  from  far,  like 
Scottish  clans.  Mothers  hustled  their  families  to 
gether.  Teachers  called  the  scholars  in  groups  and 
made  sure  of  their  number.  The  baskets  were  put  in 
the  ox  van  and  some  cushions  to  ease  up  the  joints  of 
the  old  ladies.  The  remnants  of  cake  were  distributed. 
Then  Mr.  Walker  gave  out  a  hymn.  In  those  days 


68          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

they  were  sung  over  so  often,  at  least  the  favorites 
were,  that  every  one  knew  them  by  heart.  With  what 
a  shout  it  went  up  there  at  the  edge  of  the  wood.  Then 
a  very  earnest,  thankful  prayer  for  the  pleasure  of  the 
day,  another  hymn  and  the  line  began  to  form. 

It  had  been  a  success  to  judge  from  the  happy  faces 
and  joyous,  if  tired,  voices.  Plans  were  made  for  a 
much  greater  time  another  year. 

The  sun  was  slowly  sinking  into  that  wonderful 
west,  and  filling  the  sky  with  the  red  gold  glow  of  later 
summer.  The  wind  breezed  up  and  brought  freshness 
from  the  great  lake,  that  now  and  then  seemed  a 
molten  sea.  It  stirred  every  pulse  within  me. 

Presently  Ruth's  step  began  to  lag.  It  was  growing 
dusky,  and  I  slipped  my  arm  around  her  waist,  some 
times  almost  lifting  the  tired  little  feet  off  the  ground. 

"I've  had  such  a  good,  good  time,"  she  whispered, 
"but  the  best  was  to  have  you  come  out.  Only — 
hadn't  you  better  let  Ben  walk  out  home  with  me?" 

"Oh,  why?"  in  a  tone  of  decided  objection. 

"I  can't  just  tell.  It  is  one  of  the  things  you  feel. 
He  would  like  it.  And  you  can  come  in  to-morrow 
for  dinner." 

That  would  compensate,  but  there  was  no  need  and 
I  was  secretly  glad.  Mr.  Gaynor  was  there  waiting 
for  her  with  his  mule  cart,  and  I  think  the  weary  Little 
Girl  was  satisfied. 

That  made  a  fine  break  in  the  everlasting  political 
talk.  No  one  was  dreaming  of  Woman's  Suffrage 
then,  but  the  weaker  sex  were  as  strenuous  for  their 
favorite  as  the  men.  For  a  little  while  they  forgot 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  69 

even  him  and  enjoyed  spiritual  conferences,  went  to 
prayer  meetings  and  exchanged  experiences,  sang 
hymns  about  their  work. 

It  seemed  to  me  no  one  was  very  clear  about  the 
issues.  General  Harrison  was  a  decided  favorite,  and 
even  now  it  seems  a  matter  of  wonderment  that  he  did 
not  go  in  by  acclaim.  We  of  the  frontier  had  a 
stronger  regard  for  him  than  the  Eastern  States. 
They  were  more  cultivated  and  leaned  to  the  social 
instead  of  the  military  aspect. 

There  were  quarrels  and  not  a  few  open  brawls 
where  pistols  were  used.  Then  came  the  great  day  of 
voting,  and  whiskey  and  betting  were  rampant.  Chica 
go  had  improved  a  little  on  the  old  time,  when  all 
letters  and  news  had  been  brought  from  Niles,  Michi 
gan,  by  a  hardy  half-breed,  only  once  a  fortnight. 
Still,  the  tidings  were  slow  in  reaching  us.  And  when 
it  came — Martin  Van  Buren  was  elected  President  of 
the  United  States  of  America.  There  was  great  rejoic 
ing  among  the  Democrats.  Bonfires  were  built  out  on 
the  prairies;  they  were  forbidden  in  the  town. 

Indeed,  there  were  a  number  of  laws  termed  "The 
Ten  Commandments,"  though  some  of  them  were  not 
kept  much  better  than  the  Mosaic  Code.  Pigs  were 
not  to  wander  in  the  streets,  men  were  not  to  shoot  off 
firearms  in  the  limits,  but  they  did.  A  stovepipe  was 
not  to  run  through  a  board  partition,  as  if  the  city 
fathers  had  a  premonition  that  fire  would  some  day 
work  a  havoc.  There  was  to  be  no  horse  racing  in  the 
streets,  cards  and  dice  were  not  to  be  played  in  taverns 
after  ten  o'clock. 


70          A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

I  was  much  interested  to  know  how  Mr.  Gay  nor 
would  take  it.  He  was  by  no  means  a  red-hot  politician, 
and  though  he  had  decided  views  he  seldom  allowed 
himself  to  wrangle,  but  turned  off  an  argument  with 
a  joke  or  some  humorous  comparison. 

"Pity  it  isn't  spring,"  he  said  dryly,  "for  then  we 
could  go  to  work  and  be  sure  of  a  long  summer.  Now 
we  will  be  frozen  up  before  you  know  it.  I  s'pose  your 
folks  are  shouting.  Well  go  ahead  and  have  all  the 
hurrahing  that  you  can.  It's  a  long  lane  that  hasn't 
any  turning,  and  ours  has  been  pretty  long.  I  think 
I  see  the  turn  four  years  ahead,"  with  a  funny  twinkle 
in  his  left  eye. 

"I  don't  see  that  the  President  has  so  much  power," 
I  subjoined.  I  belonged  to  a  debating  society  now, 
and  we  were  discussing  the  affairs  of  the  country. 
"He  can  veto.  Then  he  has  a  cabinet  to  advise 
him—" 

"Well,  he  doesn't  when  you  come  to  that,  but  I  ob 
serve  that  he  has  to  shoulder  the  blame  of  an  unfortu 
nate  administration.  I  wouldn't  give  a  fig  for  your 
President,  but  I  do  hope  Congress  will  do  a  little  for 
us.  Those  Eastern  fellows  haven't  an  idea  of  what  this 
section  is  going  to  be.  They  think  they  have  the  whole 
Atlantic  Ocean  and  trade,  and  some  day  we'll  have  to 
feed  them,  keep  them  from  starving.  Why,  the  wheat 
fields  will  be  the  wonder  of  the  world  fifty  years 
hence." 

He  was  buying  prairie  land  and  seeding  it  to  grain, 
planting  corn  and  feeding  pigs. 

I  remember  his  telling  mother  one  time  about  elec- 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  71 

tion  cake  that  the  Eastern  housekeepers  made  to  treat 
their  friends. 

"  'T would  take  a  mighty  sight  to  go  round  here," 
said  mother. 

I  was  amazed  to  see  animosities  settle  so  soon  and 
the  men  who  had  threatened  to  "blow  off  each  other's 
heads"  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace  around  the  tavern 
stove.  They  were  really  country  taverns,  where  neigh 
bors  came  for  a  friendly  gossip,  even  if  they  did  drink 
a  little  whiskey  and  bet  on  a  game  of  cards. 

I  think  Mr.  Harris  was  very  much  interested  in 
furthering  my  turn  for  knowledge.  He  lent  me  books, 
he  asked  me  to  spend  the  evenings  with  him.  He  had  a 
nice  cheerful  room  with  a  married  sister.  He  had 
several  volumes  of  poetry  that  I  borrowed  for  the  Little 
Girl.  Oh,  what  delight  we  took  in  "Percy's  Reliques" 
and  some  of  the  old  ballad  singers ! 

She  grew  very  slowly,  it  seemed  to  me,  but  then  we 
were  such  big  fellows.  Homer  went  to  a  carpenter  to 
learn  a  trade,  building  being  considered  a  very  good 
business.  He  was  fully  as  tall  as  I,  but  he  had  no 
especial  taste  for  books,  though  he  was  very  quick 
and  ingenious,  and  full  of  fun  and  frolic.  There  were 
dances  once  a  fortnight  in  one  of  the  rooms  at  the  old 
fort,  which  was  put  to  various  uses,  now  that  the  Gov 
ernment  had  removed  the  troops.  The  court  was  held 
there,  commissioners  met  to  confer  and  ordain,  pay 
taxes  and  make  complaints.  Everybody  had  a  curious 
sympathetic  feeling  about  it,  as  if  it  was  in  some  sort 
a  monument  that  commemorated  the  massacre.  For 
some  time  after  the  treaty,  when  the  Government 


72          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

purchased  their  lands,  they  distributed  goods  to  the 
Indians  every  year.  This  was  on  the  prairie,  on  the 
west  side  of  the  river,  and  we  used  to  make  it  quite  a 
holiday.  The  Indians  sat  around  in  a  circle  with  the 
squaws  behind  them.  There  was  a  great  pile  of  goods 
which  the  traders  and  some  of  the  half-breeds  began  to 
distribute.  At  first  the  row  of  Indians  was  quite 
orderly.  Then  dissatisfaction  would  begin  and  they 
would  rise  to  their  knees,  gesticulating  and  vociferat 
ing  their  mixed  gibberish  until  it  seemed  they  might 
break  out  into  open  war.  Then  there  would  be  a  gen 
eral  scramble,  the  squaws  throwing  back  articles  they 
did  not  care  for  and  seizing  a  lot,  that,  perhaps,  gave 
them  no  greater  satisfaction. 

The  day  ended  by  a  big  fire  kindled  far  enough  from 
the  wigwams  to  escape  the  danger  of  conflagration, 
and  the  braves  would  dance  around  it  in  a  furious  man 
ner.  Occasionally  there  were  brawls  for  several  days, 
which  culminated  in  killing  a  number,  and  many  of  the 
braves  would  part  with  their  goods  to  whoever  would 
trade  whiskey  for  them,  though  this  had  to  be  done 
underhand. 

All  Chicago  was  glad  and  relieved  when  they  were 
removed  to  their  allotment.  Forty  ox  teams  carried 
the  children  and  the  baggage,  while  the  braves  and 
squaws  marched  leisurely,  encamping  for  the  night, 
and  were  nearly  a  month  reaching  their  journey's  end. 

We  were  not  rid  of  all  the  Indians,  however.  There 
were  some  who  preferred  semi-civilization  and 
whiskey,  and  not  a  few  half-breeds  whose  descendants 
were  to  be  proud  of  their  Indian  blood  in  after  years. 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  73 

There  had  been  mixed  marriages,  mostly  French  trad 
ers,  with  Indian  wives,  and  some  of  these  made  worthy 
citizens. 

One  of  the  Ottawa  chiefs,  who  had  prevented  a 
massacre,  after  the  defeat  of  Mayor  Stillman's  force, 
still  remained  in  a  noted  place  called  Shabbona's  Grove. 
Shabbonee  kept  the  respect  and  friendship  of  the 
whites,  and  was  quite  a  power  in  quelling  disputes 
among  his  own  nation.  While  most  of  the  savages  in 
our  vicinity  were  not  such  as  to  inspire  one  with  even 
tolerant  sympathy,  he  was  more  like  the  heroes  of 
romance  that  have  been  handed  down  to  us  from  our 
forefathers.  A  broad-shouldered,  stalwart  specimen 
of  his  tribe,  with  a  more  intelligent  face  and  strength 
of  feature  and  character  than  even  the  average. 

Times  were  very  hard  and  through  the  winter  little 
could  be  doing.  Plans  there  were  in  abundance.  Men 
lingered  in  the  warm  shelter  of  the  warehouse  and 
wrangled,  of  course.  I  think  now  it  was  the  fore 
shadowing  of  "bulls  and  bears"  that  were  to  dominate 
the  town  in  the  years  to  come.  One  party  drew 
roseate  pictures  of  the  possibilities  of  the  coming 
Chicago.  We  were  to  be  the  centre  of  trade — we  were 
between  the  east  and  the  west,  not  only  that,  but  there 
was  Canada  and  the  lakes  and  the  mineral  wealth  of 
upper  Michigan,  the  boundless  prairies. 

And  the  others  sneered  at  the  mud  hole  and  saw 
dozens  of  ways  in  which  trade  could  be  diverted.  The 
canal  wouldn't  ever  be  finished,  the  towns  along  the 
Mississippi  had  the  start  of  us  and  would  keep  it. 
Cities  would  spring  up  along  its  banks  as  if  by  magic. 


74          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

There  was  the  gathering  trade  centring  in  the  mighty 
gulf,  the  outlet  to  France  and  England,  even  to  the 
Coast  States.  What  could  we  produce  to  compete  with 
them!  Would  the  great  cities  of  the  east  be  generous 
enough  to  fall  back  and  beckon  us  on?  Trade  looked 
out  for  itself  first  of  all. 

I  used  to  repeat  these  arguments  to  Mr.  Gaynor. 
Sometimes  when  he  wanted  to  go  out  of  an  evening 
he  asked  me  to  drop  in  so  that  Ruth  would  not  be  left 
alone.  The  handmaid,  Melissa  Hatch,  had  married 
and  rejoiced  in  a  two-room  shanty  of  her  own,  but  did 
not  disdain  coming  in  for  a  few  hours  daily  and  taking 
the  rough  work.  They  were  rather  gay  and  spent  their 
evenings  card  playing  and  dancing  with  their  neigh 
bors.  Fiddling  was  a  common  accomplishment.  The 
dancing  was  more  of  the  jig,  or  breakdown,  order. 
Two  people  would  dance  to  each  other,  executing  all 
sorts  of  fancy  steps,  then  turn  to  the  next  couple  and 
pair  off,  and  so  on  until  they  had  gone  around  the 
room.  If  there  were  not  more  than  four  people  they 
seemed  to  have  just  as  merry  a  time.  Then  a  little  hot 
whiskey,  and  to  home  and  to  bed.  No  midnight  dissi 
pations  for  them. 

Not  that  Mr.  Gaynor  was  given  to  these  festivities. 
He  would  go  over  to  the  Tremont  or  to  Baubein's  and 
listen  to  the  talk,  now  and  then  putting  in  some  shrewd 
remark  or  a  bit  of  humor,  and  often  caught  an  idea 
that  he  saved  up  for  future  consideration,  and  when  the 
time  came  used  it  and  made  a  success  of  it. 

"All  this  talk  doesn't  bother  me,"  he  would  say 
dryly.  "New  land's  the  place  for  fine  crops.  To  the 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  75 

eastward  you  have  to  pick  stones  until  you  feel  as  if 
you  had  a  ball  and  chain  to  your  leg.  Land's  getting 
worn  out,  too.  Some  day  they'll  have  to  come  to  us 
for  bread.  They  can't  farm  and  manufacture  at  the 
same  time,  and  they're  just  besotted  on  building  towns 
and  calling  in  people  to  work  in  factories.  All  well 
enough  for  those  who  like  it,  but  these  people  will  all 
have  to  be  fed  and  some  one  will  have  to  raise  the 
stuff." 

He  was  a  typical  Yankee  for  barter.  He  always  had 
something  the  neighbors  wanted,  or  could  give  assist 
ance  when  it  was  most  needed  and  take  it  out  in  some 
thing  else,  for  there  really  was  no  money.  He  raised 
excellent  stock.  He  looked  at  a  thing,  a  pig  or  a  pile 
of  boards,  or  even  a  bit  of  land,  squinting  up  one  eye, 
and  saw  its  good  points  at  once.  And  he  managed  to 
keep  on  the  right  side  of  every  one. 

So  I  spent  half  my  time  at  the  Gaynors',  mother  said. 
Dan  was  a  gay  young  chap  in  great  demand  with  the 
girls,  ready  for  any  frolic,  and  already  was  the  owner 
of  a  fine  horse  that  he  was  very  generous  with  when  he 
had  time  to  drive,  and  the  girls  were  ready  to  tear  each 
other  half  to  pieces  for  the  chance. 

"I  jest  wish  he'd  settle  down  to  one,"  mother  would 
say  complainingly.  "There's  no  look  when  a  fellow's 
butterflyin'  round.  He  ain't  like  a  bee  who  has  some 
sense,  but  jest  goes  from  flower  to  flower,  an'  that's 
the  way  with  Dan.  I  ain't  no  ways  anxious  to  have 
Polly  Morrison  for  a  daughter,  but  I  did  settle  upon 
it  a  while  ago,  an'  now  it's  Betty  Hale,  but  it  does 
seem  as  if  some  girl  might  catch  him  an'  sober  him 


76          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

down.  He's  smart  to  earn,  but  he'll  never  be  fore 
handed  until  some  woman  gets  hold  of  the  purse 
strings." 

Early  marriages  were  quite  in  vogue,  the  general 
trend  of  new  countries. 

I  did  not  have  to  consider  the  point,  for  twenty-one 
was  early  enough.  And  I  was  more  interested  in 
books  than  girls  in  general.  I  was  not  much  of  a 
dancer,  and  I  think  I  was  a  little  afraid  of  the  quick, 
saucy  retorts  of  the  girls.  I  liked  the  sledding  parties 
in  winter  and  the  skating.  We  even  navigated  about 
on  snow  shoes,  and  it  was  very  exhilarating  when  there 
was  a  sharp  crust  frozen  over  the  snow.  On  clear 
moonlight  nights  there  was  an  indescribable  splendor 
in  the  far  sparkling  reaches,  whose  only  limit  seemed 
the  boundary  of  the  blue  sky,  studded  with  brilliant 
gems  of  all  colors,  it  seemed  at  such  times,  and  chang 
ing,  as  if  no  settled  tint  predominated,  as  the  air  went 
waving  among  them,  driving  a  flock  here  as  if  they 
were  birds  of  mystery,  then  confronted  by  some  dar 
ing  immovable  fixed  star.  I  used  to  stand  in  silent 
wonder,  they  were  so  marvellous. 

"And  to  think  that  heaven  is  behind  them  all,"  the 
Little  Girl  would  say  with  grave  eyes. 

We  were  a  good  deal  troubled  with  wolves  and  now 
and  then  there  was  a  regular  hunt.  Dan  was  always 
delighted  with  such  adventures.  Some  more  valuable 
animals  were  captured  as  well. 

But  spring  came  on  amain,  and  curiously  enough, 
business  seemed  stirring  up  in  spite  of  hard  times  and 
money  disturbances.  The  people  of  Chicago  were 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  77 

workers.  They  began  to  look  after  the  streets  a  little, 
to  straighten  the  houses  that  had  been  set  in  every 
fashion,  and  though  there  did  not  seem  much  of 
promise  to  call  them  thither,  emmigrants  were  arriving 
nearly  every  day  in  all  sorts  of  vehicles,  and  of  several 
nationalities.  The  French  had  quite  a  little  settlement 
to  themselves,  Germans  began  to  look  for  outlying 
farms,  some  had  already  bought  Government  land. 
There  were  still  Indian  wigwams,  in  which  squaws 
labored  and  pappooses  abounded. 

And  though  it  was  not  a  highly  diversified  country, 
and  many  things  were  left  for  the  hand  of  man  to  ac 
complish,  still  it  took  on  a  certain  beauty.  The  broad 
belt  of  timber  to  the  west  stood  up  sentinel  like,  to  the 
south  there  were  various  rises  of  ground;  there  were 
the  broad  prairies  and  the  magnificent  lake,  beginning 
to  be  dotted  with  vessels  of  all  the  rather  primitive 
kinds.  The  building  of  the  Clarissa  had  been  con 
sidered  a  great  achievement,  and  was  being  followed 
by  others. 

Gardens  came  out  in  summer  bravery.  Many  of 
them  were  an  acre  or  two  in  extent.  Apples  and  plums 
grew  readily,  indeed  it  seemed  as  if  plums  were  in 
digenous  to  the  soil.  Smaller  fruits  were  cultivated, 
and  all  those  not  likely  to  be  killed  with  the  hard  cold 
winters. 

Here  and  there  you  saw  prairie  schooners,  as  they 
were  called,  with  a  double  team  of  oxen  lumbering 
along  with  a  load  of  logs  from  some  more  favorable 
point  for  the  saw  mill.  Wheat  fields  waved  in  the  sun 
shine,  making  billows  like  the  sea.  Cornfields  green 


78          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

and  strong  shot  up  like  armies.  Rye  and  oats — every 
thing  grew  as  if  by  magic.  Doors  were  wide  open,  and 
women  sat  spinning,  or  some  one  ran  to  and  fro  with 
nimble  feet  at  the  big  wheel. 

In  another  house  was  a  loom,  the  warping  bars  hung 
with  skeins  of  colored  yarns,  and  the  ceiling  of  the 
homely  interior  still  ornamented  with  the  remnants  of 
winter  provender,  where  there  had  been  abundant  stor 
ing.  Children  played  around  outside,  older  ones  went 
to  and  from  school,  raced  about  in  childish  games, 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation.  A 
neighbor  woman  in  a  faded  blue  gown  and  sunbonnet 
stopped  to  gossip  awhile  at  some  one's  door  as  to  who 
was  "keepin'  stiddy  comp'ny,"  who  had  been  buying  a 
cow  or  putting  up  a  shanty,  or  "dyein'  of  ther'  yarn." 
Less  than  three  quarters  of  a  century  ago  they  had 
dreams  of  greatness  then,  but  they  would  have  fainted 
to  see  this  day. 

The  Little  Girl  had  learned  to  spin  and  had  a  wheel, 
She  had  learned  many  other  things  as  well,  and  some 
of  the  older  people  thought  she  was  "fittin'  to  keep 
house  athought  any  help."  But  M'liss  was  glad  to 
come  in  daily,  though  now  she  brought  a  small 
bundle,  rolled  in  an  old  shawl,  which  she  generally 
deposited  on  a  bench  and  stood  a  chair-back  against 
it. 

"I  jest  useter  think  it  was  orful  to  strap  them  little 
Injun  babies  on  a  board  an'  hang  'em  to  a  tree,  but  I 
dunno.  They  want  ter  be  made  straight,  an'  fraish  air 
is  good  fer  'em.  I  s'pose  people'd  think  I  was  orful 
unhuman  to  do  it,  but  lawsy  a'  massy  me,  what  does 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  79 

anything  like  that  want  but  jest  to  lay  still  an'  grow 
till  it  gets  some  sense." 

Ruth  was  not  enchanted  with  the  baby,  though  she 
berated  herself  for  a  kind  of  hard-heartedness.  It  had 
a  funny  little  face  screwed  up  to  a  point  in  the  centre, 
with  a  sloping  forehead  and  no  chin  to  speak  of,  and  it 
was  a  curious  red  brown. 

"  'Tain't  no  great  beauty,"  M'liss  admitted.  "But  I 
never  see  one  that  was.  Ther's  a  big  world  fer  'em  to 
grow  good  lookin'  in  if  they  hev  the  gift,  an' 
if  they  hevn't,  why,  they  hevn't,  thet's  all.  I  can't  say 
I  was  eszatly  hankerin'  fer  it,  but  it's  here,  an'  sent 
fer  some  wise  perpose,  mebbe." 

M'liss  was  very  glad  of  the  good  meal  and  the  chunk 
of  pork  or  loaf  of  bread  she  earned.  The  Little  Girl 
only  went  to  school  for  half  a  day  now,  she  was  learn 
ing  so  many  useful  things  at  home  to  make  her  her 
father's  housekeeper.  He  was  always  very  tender  to 
her  I  noticed,  and  thought  her  very  smart. 

Sometimes  when  we  sat  on  the  doorstep  of  an  even 
ing  he  would  join  the  talk.  His  father  and  grand 
father  had  been  Revolutionary  patriots.  He  had  been 
to  Boston  and  sailed  from  there  to  New  York  and 
back,  and  knew  a  good  deal  about  the  geography  of  the 
Eastern  States.  I  brought  out  my  store  of  knowledge, 
gleaned  from  traders  who  stopped  at  the  warehouse. 
Some  of  the  stories  seemed  too  marvellous  for  belief, 
and  now  they  are  commonplace  history. 

The  only  thing  Ruth  was  really  slow  about  was 
figures.  Mr.  Gaynor  was  very  quick  and  could  not 
seem  to  understand  it. 


8o          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"You  must  learn,"  he  would  say.  "I  may  get  old 
and  lose  my  eyesight,  then  you'll  have  to  do  my 
clerking." 

So  we  used  to  labor  with  her.  She  knew  her  tables, 
children  learned  them  perfectly  in  those  days,  but  there 
was  some  little  knack  of  applying  them  in  which  she 
seemed  deficient.  And  when  we  were  alone  she  would 
say: 

"Oh,  don't  bother.  Let  us  read.  When  I  am  grown 
up  it  will  all  come  easy  enough,"  and  her  winsome 
smile  always  persuaded  me. 

Mr.  Harris  had  loaned  me  "Pope's  Illiad,"  recom 
mended  it  to  me,  in  fact.  When  I  had  gone  about  half 
through  I  was  so  enchanted  that  I  brought  it  to 
her,  and  turned  back  that  we  might  share  it  together. 
How  wonderful  it  seemed  to  us!  We  took  it 
in  as  every  word  true.  These  were  the  people 
who  lived  long  before  America  was  discovered, 
long  before  William  the  Norman  crossed  over  to 
Britain. 

"But  I  do  wonder  if  men  must  always  fight,"  she 
said  with  a  sigh. 

We  were  at  peace  then  except  for  an  occasional 
Indian  skirmish,  but  these  glowing  descriptions  did 
stir  my  blood. 

Then  there  was  an  old  copy  of  the  "Morte'd  Arthur" 
that  we  revelled  in.  And  there  were  outside  enjoy 
ments,  rambles  about  on  Sunday  afternoons  that  we 
did  not  keep  as  strictly  as  the  people  to  the  eastward. 
Mr.  Gaynor  was  full  of  funny  stories  about  the  old 
blue  laws,  as  they  were  called,  of  having  a  hen  put  to 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  81 

death  because  she  laid  an  egg  on  Sunday.     But  one 
that  amused  us  very  much  was  the  old  couplet : 

"The  deacon,  he  whipped  the  barrel  of  beer 
Because  it  worked  on  Sunday." 

There  was  some  splendid  birch  and  sassafras  beer 
made  in  many  families,  and  though  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  whiskey  used,  numbers  of  the  best  men 
frowned  on  habitual  drinking. 

One  of  the  great  amusements  on  Saturday  after 
noon  was  horse  racing.  This  had  to  be  outside  the 
town.  It  created  immense  enthusiasm.  Several  of  the 
young  Indians  owned  fine  horses  and  were  proud 
enough  of  them.  Dan  entered  his  beautiful  Chita,  and 
after  some  training  and  several  attempts  she  won  a 
race,  to  his  great  delight.  We  had  gone  out,  and  I  must 
say  my  inmost  heart  was  stirred  at  the  sight,  but  I  had 
not  thought  the  laurel  wreath  would  descend  to  us.  It 
was  a  perfect  ovation.  And  that  night  he  came  home 
much  the  worse  for  drinking,  and  he  and  father  had 
quite  a  desperate  quarrel. 

"I  should  like  to  shoot  the  mare!"  declared 
father. 

"He'd  move  heaven  and  earth  to  get  another,"  and 
mother  put  her  arm  over  father's  shoulder.  "Dan  is 
a  pretty  good  boy  in  the  main,  and  I'm  hoping  he  will 
get  a  wife  some  day  to  steady  him." 

"Polly  Morrison !"  flung  out  father  scornfully. 

"No,"  I  hope  it  won't  be  Polly  Morrison." 

Polly  was  a  slim,  lithe  slip  of  a  girl  that  no  two 
people  ever  agreed  about.  Her  skin  was  of  lily  fair- 


82 

ness  no  matter  what  she  did.  Her  eyes  were  large,  and 
although  glorious  does  not  seem  the  proper  adjective, 
that  is  what  they  were.  Brown,  with  golden  lights 
that  could  flash  and  laugh  and  turn  so  tender,  you  were 
sure  they  were  in  tears.  She  had  a  rather  wide  mouth, 
full  of  curves  and  dimples.  The  one  thing  that  laid 
her  open  to  criticism  was  her  hair.  Somehow  red  hair 
was  not  in  high  favor,  and  though  her  admirers 
quarrelled  about  it,  red  it  surely  was,  the  deep  rich  sort 
of  mahogany  red,  with  a  gloss  as  if  the  sun  shone  upon 
it.  There  were  great  waves  from  the  white  parting  to 
the  coil  which  covered  the  back  of  her  head.  Occa 
sionally  she  shook  it  down,  and  it  was  a  glistening 
cloud  about  her,  looking  like  something  alive.  She  was 
a  harum-scarum  sort  of  a  girl,  could  row  equal  to  a 
man,  ride  bareback,  run  races,  dance  like  a  creature 
bewitched,  go  to  church  on  Sunday  and  look  as  demure 
as  a  saint. 

That  summer  Chicago  was  all  astir.  It  didn't  matter 
to  anybody  whether  Martin  Van  Buren  was  President 
or  not.  There  were  processions  of  grain  coming  in, 
ox  loads,  precursors  of  trains  that  no  one  dreamed  of 
then,  bringing  it  in  sheets  and  blankets,  begged  of 
the  housewives  when  bags  were  filled,  and  there  was 
the  crude  elevator,  the  grain  hoisted  by  hand  with 
block  and  tackle,  and  dumped  into  the  hold  of  the  big 
Osceola.  Twenty-nine  hundred  bushels  to  be  sent  to 
Black  Rock,  New  York  State,  the  beginning  of  the 
mighty  contribution  that  was  to  enrich  not  only  the 
city,  but  the  east  as  well,  and  in  future  times  to  stand 
between  the  world  and  starvation. 


OF  COMMON  DAILY  THINGS  83 

Crowds  went  to  see  it.  How  proud  everybody  was. 
John  Gaynor  rubbed  his  hands  in  glee. 

"What  did  I  tell  you!"  he  kept  saying  in  triumph. 
"This  will  sometime  be  the  great  city  of  the  world,  and 
those  blasted  fools  at  Washington  can't  see  that  we 
need  anything,  not  even  to  have  the  canal  finished. 
Well,  we  will  surprise  them  yet." 

He  was  not  much  given  to  swearing,  though  pro 
fanity  seemed  rather  in  the  air.  The  good  parsons 
preached  against  it,  and  some  of  the  best  men  rarely 
used  an  oath. 

For  days  nothing  was  talked  of  but  the  exploit. 
The  Osceola  had  gone  off  with  the  cheers  of  the 
crowd.  But  when  the  jubilation  subsided  a  little, 
new  plans  were  made  for  the  elevator  to  use 
horsepower  instead  of  hand,  and  to  enlarge  its 
capacity. 

Crops  of  all  kinds  had  been  good.  The  yield  of  corn 
was  tremendous.  Pigs  were  in  demand ;  there  was 
plenty  to  fatten  them.  We  were  almost  as  likely  to 
have  a  boom  in  these  products  as  there  had  been 
in  real  estate  a  few  years  before. 

Mr.  Dole  had  been  slaughtering  and  packing  cattle 
of  both  kinds  down  on  Dearborn  and  South  Water 
streets.  The  small  log  building  where  he  first  lived 
stood  three  doors  east  of  the  warehouse,  but  now  he 
had  built  a  more  commodious  dwelling.  Mr.  Thomp 
son  was  in  his  new  office  and  still  busy  surveying  and 
mapping  out  lots,  and  making  trades  that,  as  father 
said,  kept  the  log  rolling  without  any  money.  Mr. 
Thomas  Church  had  enlarged  his  store,  and  the  women 


84          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

had  a  gala  time  going  to  see  the  pretty  things  every 
few  months  when  a  new  stock  came  in. 

The  older  inhabitants  still  kept  to  weaving  linsey 
woolsey  and  common  grades  of  woollen,  as  well  as 
some  of  the  coarser  cotton  cloths.  Spinning  and  knit 
ting  was  much  in  vogue,  but  the  girls  beginning  to 
grow  up  rather  protested  against  the  labor.  And  the 
goods  coming  from  the  States  and  abroad  were  so 
pretty  and  tempting.  So  butter  and  eggs  were  bartered 
off,  strong  sacking  stuff,  pork  and  woollen  stockings 
for  the  boatmen  and  the  voyagers. 

Mr.  Carpenter  was  building  a  fine  house  over  on 
the  west  side  and  setting  out  choice  fruits  that  stirred 
others  up  to  emulation.  Then  we  had  a  daily  paper, 
the  American  having  started  a  precarious  venture  that 
most  men  predicted  would  be  a  failure,  and  ''where 
could  any  one  find  news  enough  to  fill  up  a  daily 
paper?"  was  on  the  tongues  of  the  objectors.  It  might 
not  have  been  the  highest  intellectual  pabulum,  but  we 
were  not  educated  up  to  that  mark,  and  somehow  we 
took  to  the  effort  most  cordially  and  wondered  how 
we  could  have  done  without  it. 

"You  can't  wash  out  a  hankercheer  now  an'  hang 
it  on  a  bush,  a'thought  everybody  knowin'  it,"  grum 
bled  Grandmother  Green,  "an'  I  kin  hear  all  the  news 
I  want  on  prayer-meetin'  night.  I  hain't  got  no 
money  to  go  foolin'  round  stores  an'  other  people 
wouldn't  'nother  if  they  paid  ther'  just  debts." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THEN    THE    UNCOMMON 

THAT  autumn  a  theatre  was  opened  on  the  west  side 
of  Dearborn  Street,  over  a  general  store,  a  plain, 
wooden  building.  The  second  floor  was  seated  and  a 
stage  erected  with  rather  crude  paraphernalia.  It  was 
called  the  Rialto.  A  Mr.  McKenzie  was  manager  and 
stage  director,  and  some  very  good  plays  were  given 
with  William  Warren,  Mrs.  Ingersol  and  Mr.  Jeffer 
son,  with  little  Joe  in  his  first  attempts.  They  had  very 
fair  audiences,  and  it  was  a  step  above  the  card  playing. 
There  were  also  some  lectures  given,  and  several  edu 
cational  plans  brought  to  the  fore.  If  they  were  to  be 
a  great  city  they  must  rouse  themselves  on  every 
side. 

I  went  to  the  theatre  with  Ruth  and  Mr.  Gaynor. 
He,  it  seems,  had  seen  several  plays.  Ruth  was 
curiously  interested. 

"Why,  it  is  like  what  people  say  and  do  all  the 
time,"  she  said  with  a  rather  puzzled  air.  "Not  as 
funny  as  some  of  the  stories  they  tell.  And  somehow, 
you  seem  to  lose  the  thread.  You  want  to  know  what 


86         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

they  did  in  between.  I  believe  I'd  rather  read  the 
whole  story." 

I  began  to  be  curious  about  Shakespeare's  plays,  and 
talked  them  over  with  Mr.  Harris. 

"Oh,  if  you  want  to  read  them  aloud  to  a  little  girl, 
I  will  let  you  have  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb's  stories," 
he  said.  "You  will  enjoy  them  better." 

And  enjoy  them   we  surely  did. 

But  one  night  we  had  a  great  alarm.  There  had 
been  occasional  fires,  still  so  many  of  the  houses  being 
small  and  detached  no  great  harm  had  been  done.  But 
the  Tremont  Hotel  took  fire,  and  though  strenuous 
efforts  were  made  to  extinguish  it  the  men  soon  found 
their  labor  was  in  vain.  Then  the  near-by  houses  be 
gan  to  go  and  terror  filled  everybody.  Those  at  a  dis 
tance  started  to  carry  out  their  choice  belongings  that 
they  had  worked  so  hard  to  accumulate.  Near-by 
houses  were  demolished  in  the  hope  of  staying  the 
flames. 

We  were  safe  enough,  but  I  had  some  fear  for  the 
Gaynors,  and  ran  over  as  fast  as  I  could.  The  streets 
were  packed  with  people  pushing,  shouting  and  swear 
ing,  and  if  noise  could  have  deadened  the  flames  the 
brilliant  sheets  and  spires  would  soon  have  turned  to  a 
dull  smoke.  I  pushed  my  way  along,  once  encounter 
ing  Dan,  who  struck  out  at  me,  which  I  dodged. 

"You  start  home,  youngster,  'fore  you  git  hurt," 
he  cried,  but  the  next  moment  I  was  lost  in  the 
crowd. 

I  could  not  think  the  Gaynors  were  in  any  real  dan 
ger,  and  they  were  not.  M'liss  had  run  up  with  her 


THEN  THE  UNCOMMON  87 

baby  in  her  arms,  while  her  husband  had  gone  to  the 
fire,  and  they  were  standing  in  the  small  front  yard. 

"I  declare  to  man!  How  did  you  get  over  here?" 
ejaculated  John  Gaynor.  "Now  that  you  are  here  I'll 
just  take  a  stroll  over  and  see  the  damage.  Splendid 
sight,  if  it  wasn't  burning  up  what  'twill  be  hard 
to  get  together  again.  You  can't  make  much  out 
of  ashes,  though  it's  mighty  good  for  growing 
corn." 

Ruth  clung  to  me.  We  talked  this  night  over  years 
afterward,  when  we  were  fleeing  from  an  awesome  and 
terrible  army  of  flames  that  seemed  bent  upon  our  very 
lives. 

"Will  there  be  any  one  burned  up  ?"  she  asked  trem 
ulously.  "If  it  wasn't  houses,  it  would  be  magnificent." 

"Oh,  no,"  reassuringly.  Then  I  felt  I  was  not  sure. 
I  had  not  thought  of  the  sacrifice  of  human  lives. 

Out  of  the  black  smoke  would  shoot  up  a  great  spire 
of  flame,  showering  sparks  like  an  immense  Roman 
candle.  We  knew  little  about  fireworks  then,  but  I 
never  see  one  going  to  pieces  without  recalling  this 
scene.  Fortunately  there  was  not  much  wind  or  all 
Chicago  would  have  gone  then. 

You  could  hear  the  roar  and  the  crackle  and  it  was 
really  frightful.  She  began  to  cry  from  overwrought 
nerves,  and  I  tried  to  soothe  her.  M'liss  was  full  of 
queer  comments  at  which  I  had  to  laugh  in  the  midst 
of  my  anxiety.  Then  the  baby  woke  and  set  up  a  howl. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  Mr.  Gaynor  returned. 
The  danger  of  the  flames  spreading  had  been  con 
quered,  the  brilliant  blaze  subdued  from  lack  of  further 


88          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

food  on  which  to  vent  its  ravenous  appetite.  It  was 
now  a  thick  black  smoke  that  penetrated  everywhere. 

"Well,  that's  something  of  a  fire  for  a  town  like 
this,"  declared  Mr.  Gaynor.  "Awfully  unlucky,  as  if 
times  were  not  bad  enough  without  all  this  loss.  It 
will  take  years  for  the  town  to  get  over  it.  There's 
eighteen  or  twenty  houses  burned  besides  the  hotel." 

We  knew  most  of  the  owners,  and  certainly  they 
were  deserving  of  sympathy.  I  stayed  all  night  and  the 
next  morning  made  one  of  the  crowd  gathered  at  the 
ruins.  Seventeen  buildings  had  been  burned  and  there 
lay  a  long  tract  of  cinders  and  ashes.  The  condolence 
was  sincere  and  offers  of  assistance  hearty.  The  hotel 
would  be  rebuilt  as  soon  as  possible.  The  courage 
evidenced  the  indomitable  pluck  that  was  to  be  tested 
more  than  once  and  show  an  undaunted  front. 

The  ruins  would  be  cleared  away  at  once.  More 
stringent  rules  about  buildings  and  fires  were  dis 
cussed.  There  was  a  finer  public  spirit  in  all  this.  We 
were  to  be  a  town  of  note  presently.  The  canal  came 
up  again  for  a  more  earnest  share  of  attention.  Streets 
must  be  improved,  wharfage  extended,  better  docks 
built — they  were  very  crude  indeed. 

But  winter  settled  in  and  most  of  the  improvements 
had  to  stop.  There  was  no  end  of  trouble  about  money 
matters.  The  State  banks  suspended  payment.  One 
could  never  tell  just  what  the  money  of  any  other  State 
would  be  worth.  The  new  President  had  brought  no 
especial  prosperity  such  as  his  party  had  predicted, 
and  some  of  his  warmest  adherents  denounced  him — 
as  if  he  alone  shaped  the  policy  of  the  Government. 


THEN  THE   UNCOMMON  89 

The  Little  Girl  and  I  did  not  meddle  our  heads  about 
any  of  these  things.  I  could  see  that  John  Gaynor, 
in  a  certain  way,  was  getting  to  have  quite  a  place  in 
Chicago  affairs  as  far  as  advice  went.  In  other  mat 
ters  he  kept  closely  to  his  own  business.  He  picked 
up  pieces  of  property,  giving  oftentimes  labor,  or 
grain,  or  pork  in  exchange.  Game  was  plentiful  if 
you  went  far  enough  for  it.  Often  a  party  of  men 
would  go  out  for  a  three  or  four  days'  hunt  and  come 
home  laden  with  spoils.  Still,  there  was  a  demand  for 
domestic  poultry  and  eggs,  and  Gaynor's  stock  of  all 
kinds  was  considered  first  class. 

He  was  out  quite  often  in  the  evening,  and  I  fell 
into  the  habit  of  stopping  as  I  came  from  work. 

"Just  take  a  bite  with  us,  Norman,"  he  would  say. 
"I'm  going  to  Green  Tree  or  down  to  Baubein's,  and 
I'll  be  home  by  nine.  But  I  can't  leave  Ruth  alone; 
don't  know  but  I  shall  have  to  hire  you  for  steady 
company,"  with  a  laugh. 

Sometimes  I  ran  off  home  after  that,  at  others  re 
mained  all  night.  Dan  was  very  gay  and  seldom  in 
before  eleven.  But  as  the  Little  Girl  was  too  young  for 
dances  or  merrymakings  we  amused  ourselves.  M'liss 
occasionally  added  to  our  fun  by  her  droll  experiences 
and  views  on  everything,  in  an  uncouth  dialect.  Her 
granny,  now  near  a  hundred,  knew  all  about  the  first 
people  who  came  to  Chicago,  and  M'liss  sometimes 
was  very  interesting,  though  I  used  to  think  granny 
must  have  drawn  on  her  imagination  for  some  of  the 
tales,  but  they  so  captured  Ruth's  romantic  side  that  I 
let  them  pass. 


90          A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

At  other  times  we  read  and  really  studied  about  the 
different  States.  The  Mississippi,  with  DeSota,  La 
Salle  and  Tonti,  was  a  mine  of  treasure  to  her.  Later 
New  Orleans,  with  its  changes  of  government,  Napo 
leon's  marvellous  history  and  the  purchase  of  the  West, 
was  a  great  source  of  interest  to  us  both.  Mr.  Harris 
was  my  mentor.  Between  getting  and  giving  I  added 
much  to  my  incomplete  boyish  education. 

But  it  was  not  all  history.  Every  volume  of  poems 
I  met  with  I  borrowed,  and  we  read  the  old  ones  over. 
I  think  we  both  knew  pages  of  "The  Lady  of  the 
Lake,"  our  first  love. 

One  evening  an  odd  incident  happened  to  me  that 
in  the  beginning  was  rather  a  source  of  annoyance.  I 
was  to  go  to  Mr.  Harris's  and  had  a  list  of  inquiries  in 
my  mind  to  talk  over.  At  the  side  of  the  cheerful  fire 
in  the  arm-chair  with  the  high  cushioned  back  sat 
a  gentleman  of  distinguished  appearance  that  I  had 
caught  sight  of  in  the  warehouse,  a  tall  man  with  a 
rather  spare  but  not  thin  figure,  a  fine  face  that,  no 
doubt,  had  been  handsome  in  youth.  The  forehead 
was  high,  but  rather  narrow,  the  hair,  that  now  had 
only  a  few  dark  threads  in  it,  but  a  certain  silvery 
gloss,  an  aquiline  nose,  and  the  beard,  snowy-white, 
trimmed  in  the  Van  Dyck  fashion.  The  eyes  held  me. 
They  were  large  and  dark,  but  with  a  kind  of  winning 
softness.  The  eyebrows  were  still  dark  and  so  were 
the  long  lashes. 

"This  is  Mr.  LeMoyne,  Norman,  and  this,"  turning 
to  the  gentleman,  "is  the  young  friend  I  was  telling 
you  of." 


THEN  THE  UNCOMMON  91 

He  did  not  rise,  but  extended  his  hand  with  such  a 
grace  that  I  felt  self-condemned  for  my  discourteous 
thought. 

"We  have  been  talking  about  you,"  he  began,  and 
there  was  something  in  his  voice  that  completed  his 
sudden  ascendency  over  me.  "Mr.  Harris  was  saying 
you  were  much  interested  in  New  Orleans,  and  that 
you  had  never  seen  any  of  our  larger  cities.  I  have 
been  in  that  quaint  southern  French  town  for  some 
months." 

I  knew  I  smiled  with  pleasure.  There  was  such  a 
charm  in  his  manner.  But  I  felt  tongue-tied,  abashed. 

"You  cannot  have  much  of  an  idea  of  it  from  this 
place,  except  as  Mr.  Harris  tells  me  that  you  are 
almost  in  a  sea  of  mud  except  when  you  are  frozen  up. 
They  have  a  great  deal  of  it  in  the  way  of  inundations, 
and  part  of  the  city  lies  very  low.  But  there  is  no  real 
winter  and  everything  is  abloom  with  roses.  Such 
luxurious  trees,  indeed  all  kinds  of  vegetation.  It  is 
really  a  French  city,  much  more  so  than  St.  Louis. 
The  States  seem  to  have  taken  in  almost  every  nation 
and  I  wonder  how  they  will  assimilate  them." 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  year  1900,"  laughed  Mr. 
Harris.  "We  are  not  half  through  a  wonderful  cen 
tury.  It  is  not  sixty  years  yet  since  we  achieved  our 
independence,  a  few  poor  struggling  colonies,  and 
already  we  are  stretching  beyond  the  Mississippi. 

"What  madness  took  possession  of  France  I  can 
never  understand,  except  that  she  set  out  to  rule  men's 
religious  consciences  while  she  herself  plunged  into 
the  depths  of  depravity.  The  Huguenots  would  have 


92          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

been  a  crown  of  enlightenment  to  her,  and  she 
martyred  them,  cast  them  out,  and  then  slowly  fol 
lowed  the  loss  of  all  this  great  empire,  for  which  she 
had  paid  so  much  in  the  lives  of  her  finest  and  bravest 
men.  From  New  Orleans  to  Montreal!" 

"Have  you  been  to  Canada  also?"  I  ventured  to 
inquire. 

"To  Canada,  to  the  cities  on  the  Atlantic,  to  Eng 
land,  France,  Holland,  indeed  as  far  as  Moscow,  Con 
stantinople  and  the  Mediterranean,"  and  the  smile  he 
gave  me  completed  his  conquest. 

Then  we  went  back  to  New  Orleans  with  its  French, 
Spanish  and  Creoles  living  in  harmony,  its  odd,  nar 
row  streets,  its  great  outlying  estates,  its  sugar  planta 
tions,  its  bloom  and  beauty  until  my  heart  was  aflame 
with  a  desire  to  see  it.  And  its  antithesis  was  Montreal, 
Quebec. 

It  seemed  to  me  when  the  clock  struck  nine  there  had 
never  been  so  short  an  hour  and  a  half.  I  knew  I  must 
go,  but  it  was  as  if  some  curious  power  held  me  back, 
pervaded  every  pulse.  I  could  believe  in  enchantment. 

"I  hope  you  have  had  a  pleasant  evening,"  said  Mr. 
Harris  at  the  door,  "and  that  it  may  lead  to  something 
more  advantageous." 

"I  can't  express  it,"  I  returned  bunglingly.  "I  never 
heard  any  one  talk  so  delightfully  before,  and  to  think 
what  Mr.  Le  Moyne  must  know !" 

He  laughed  softly. 

We  were  very  busy  the  next  day  with  some  accounts, 
and  said  nothing  about  the  evening  until  lunch  time. 
I  had  brought  mine.  Then  I  heard  that  Mr.  Le  Moyne 


THEN  THE  UNCOMMON  93 

was  one  of  the  partners  in  a  large  fur-trading  com 
pany  and  also  in  the  new  copper  mining  in  Northern 
Michigan,  that  was  being  rapidly  developed.  In  his 
youth  he  had  fled  from  France  to  Canada  in  the  time 
of  the  Huguenot  persecution,  and  had  become  deeply 
interested  in  business  later  on.  I  was  very  enthusi 
astic. 

"Yes,  I  was  glad  to  have  you  see  him.  Such  men 
are  worth  knowing." 

It  seemed  quite  absurd  that  I  should  ever  have  the 
opportunity  of  knowing  much  about  him.  Men  of  his 
stamp  were  not  frequent  visitors  in  our  provincial 
town. 

If  I  had  been  enraptured  myself  I  have  no  word  to 
describe  Ruth's  delight.  After  all,  we  were  very  sim 
ple  children,  though  our  reading  had  broadened  our 
minds,  and  I  had  found  before  this  that  Mr.  Gaynor, 
indifferent  as  he  seemed  to  what  is  called  culture,  was 
a  very  well-informed  man  on  general  topics  and 
shrewd  in  his  observations.  I  did  not  know  then  that 
education  was  much  more  widely  diffused  at  the  East. 

The  outcome  of  this  was  a  proposal  I  could  not  have 
imagined.  Mr.  Le  Moyne  dropped  in  the  rough  little 
office  several  times  and  we  had  a  few  suggestive  talks 
about  business  which  seemed  rather  for  Mr.  Harris 
than  for  me.  One  day  my  father  was  called  into 
council,  which  amazed  me,  for  when  he  went  out  he 
gave  me  such  a  mysterious  look. 

"We'll  knock  off  now,"  said  Mr.  Harris.  "There's 
nothing  to  suffer,  and  I  have  a  plan  to  lay  before  you, 
an  opportunity  that  doesn't  happen  more  than  once  in 


94          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

a  lifetime,  and  I  hope  you  will  take  it.  Your  father  has 
given  his  consent." 

The  offer  was  from  Mr.  Le  Moyne,  who  wanted 
what  would  be  called  a  private  secretary  nowadays, 
perhaps  a  little  more.  With  his  perfect  health  he  had 
been  seized  with  a  mysterious  eye  trouble,  a  dimness 
of  vision  that  nothing  could  cure,  but  that  rest  and 
carefulness  would  assist  in  putting  off  the  evil  day, 
and  that  he  might  never  be  totally  blind.  He  wanted 
a  young  intelligent  person  who  would  be  pleased  to 
travel,  who  would  be  companionable,  who  could  read 
to  him,  write  his  private  letters,  who  was  trusty,  honest 
and  reliable,  and  who  had  the  enthusiasms  of  youth. 
He  would  give  me  a  good  salary  and  put  me  in  the 
way  of  making  a  fortune  if  I  stayed  with  him.  But  we 
would  make  our  bargain  first  for  two  years. 

I  was  absolutely  speechless  from  surprise.  My 
brain  was  in  a  whirl.  I  was  glad  to  have  Mr.  Harris 
go  on  pointing  out  the  advantages,  though  I  am  afraid 
I  could  not  have  told  one  of  them  afterward. 

"Well?"  presently,  in  an  inquiring  tone. 

"I  am  so  confused,"  I  began.  "Of  course  it  is  a 
splendid  chance,  only  I  had  never  thought  of  going 
away — " 

"Two  years  soon  passes,  and  you  may  come  back 
before  that.  Mr.  Le  Moyne  is  a  delightful  gentleman. 
If  I  was  young  I'd  jump  at  the  chance.  Yes,  I  sup 
pose  it  is  a  surprise,"  with  a  little  heartsome  laugh. 
"But  you'll  take  it.  You  see  it  isn't  even  as  if  your 
parents  had  no  other  sons.  There's  enough  of  you 
boys  to  settle  a  town.  One  won't  be  missed." 


THEN  THE  UNCOMMON  95 

Ah,  but  I  knew  one  who  would  miss  me. 

I  went  home  in  a  dream.  Father  had  been  telling 
mother  and  Homer,  who  had  wrenched  his  ankle  skat 
ing.  The  two  boys  were  out  snowballing. 

"Well,  that's  equal  to  a  lottery  prize!"  declared 
father.  "Norme,  some  of  your  fine  notions  stand  you 
in  good  stead.  I've  sometimes  thought  with  your 
mother  that  you  should  have  been  a  girl,  but  now  we 
see  the  sense  of  them.  This  Mr.  Le  Moyne  wouldn't 
look  at  a  great  rough  lout.  Well,  if  he'd  laid  a  hun 
dred  dollars  in  gold  in  my  hand  I  really  think  I 
couldn't  be  gladder." 

"It's  wonderful,"  said  mother  in  a  softened  tone. 
"I've  jawed  an'  scolded  at  the  way  you  boys  run 
through  stockings  an'  wear  out  trousers,  but  I  shall  be 
awful  sorry  to  have  you  go  away,  only  this  is  a  chance 
out  of  a  thousand.  But  you  c'n  write,  an'  two  years 
isn't  long." 

"Well,  I  wish  it  had  been  me !" 

"You!"  cried  mother  with  disdain. 

"Homer's  a  smart  lad  in  his  way.  I  look  for  him 
to  build  up  half  Chicago  before  he  dies.  They're  all 
good  lads,  if  Dan  is  a  bit  wild." 

We  talked  all  the  evening.  Of  course,  there  was  no 
refusing.  The  next  morning  Mr.  Le  Moyne  came  in, 
and  I  signed  an  agreement  to  stay  with  him  the  two 
years. 

"That's  to  tide  you  over  the  homesickness  at  first. 
I  wouldn't  give  much  for  a  lad  who  wasn't  a 
little  touched  by  parting  with  his  own  folks.  But 
we  will  have  some  nice  times  together,  and  you'll 


96          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

see  a  good  deal  of  the  world.  I  hope  you'll  like 
me." 

Like  him!  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  Little  Girl  I 
could  have  knelt  at  his  feet  for  very  joy  and  gone  all 
over  the  world  with  him. 

I  went  to  supper  at  the  Gaynors'.  Ruth  had  been 
making  Johnny  cake,  and  it  was  delicious.  She  had 
some  funny  sayings  of  M'liss'  to  repeat,  and  we 
laughed,  of  course. 

"Now  that  you're  here  I'll  go  down  to  Baubein's  and 
smoke  an  hour,"  Mr.  Gaynor  exclaimed,  rising  from 
the  table. 

"Don't  go !"  I  blurted  out,  and  I  believe  I  was  alrribst 
crying.  "I  have — something  to  tell  you." 

"Nothing  bad,  I  hope !"  He  studied  me  curiously. 

I  don't  know  how  I  told  the  story.  It  was  all  in 
a  jumble.  He  looked  as  if  he  didn't  half  believe  me. 

"Not  that  tall,  white-bearded  Frenchman,  who 
looks  as  if  he  had  just  come  from  a  King's  Cabinet. 
Well,  I  swan!  Norman  Hayne,  you're  born  for  luck. 
Give  us  your  hand." 

He  wrung  it  almost  off. 

"I'll  sit  down  and  hear  the  story  over  again.  That 
Frenchman  is  said  to  be  worth  a  mint  of  money,  and 
you're  on  the  right  side.  You  just  keep  there,  with 
care." 

He  made  various  comments  as  I  went  over  the 
happenings.  Then  he  seized  his  beaver  cap. 

"You  don't  mind  if  I  tell  it?"  laughing.  "I  know 
just  how  a  woman  feels  when  she's  dying  to  retail  a 
bit  of  gossip.  But  this  is  uncommon." 


THEN  THE  UNCOMMON  97 

"No,"  I  replied,  "I  expect  father's  spreading  it 
abroad." 

"So  would  I  if  I  had  such  a  boy."  Then  he  went  out 
and  slammed  the  door. 

We  stood  and  looked  at  each  other.  Ruth's  eyes 
filled  with  tears  that  slowly  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,  Ruth,  don't!  don't!"  I  cried,  and  my  arms 
were  around  her.  Her  face  was  buried  on  my 
breast. 

"Oh,  how  can  I  let  you  go!"  The  tender  accent 
pierced  me  to  the  heart. 

It  is  curious  what  people  do  in  times  of  great  emo 
tion  or  anguish.  She  released  herself  presently,  wiped 
her  eyes,  and  said,  "We  must  clear  the  table.  I  am  glad 
you  liked  the  Johnny  cake." 

"It  was  delicious,  only  I  was  so  full  of  the — "  the 
bad  news,  I  was  about  to  say,  but  paused. 

"Of  course,  it  is  splendid,  and  you  will  see  so  much 
of  the  world.  There  are  so  many  beautiful  places  that 
we  have  read  about.  And  it  will  be — Norman,  you 
will  be  a  gentleman.  But  you  won't — "  her  voice 
trembled  and  broke. 

"If  you  mean  that  I  will  not  forget,  you  may  be 
sure  of  that,  and  I  shall  never  outgrow  anything,  not 
even  dear  old  Chicago,  even  if  other  cities  were  paved 
with  gold,"  I  replied  emphatically. 

"Nothing  is  but  the  New  Jerusalem,"  she  said 
solemnly.  "Whatever  happens,  we  shall  be  together 
there." 

"Nothing  will  happen.  I  shall  come  back  in  two 
years.  Business  may  bring  me  back  before  that." 


98  A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

We  washed  the  dishes  and  put  them  away.  Then  I 
stirred  the  fire  and  we  sat  down  side  by  side.  How 
often  we  had  done  it — two  years — how  long  it 
looked ! 

I  loved  her  very  much.  More  than  ever  I  wished 
she  was  my  sister  and  that  mother  could  watch  over 
her.  She  would  gladly,  I  knew.  A  little  girl,  barely 
twelve  years  old  and  not  large  for  her  age.  Once  or 
twice  a  thought  crossed  my  mind,  but  when  I  looked  at 
her  it  seemed  sacrilege,  like  pulling  the  bud  open  be 
fore  it  was  ready  to  unfold.  She  was  so  sweet  and 
innocent. 

I  told  her  all  I  knew  about  Mr.  Le  Moyne,  and  how 
he  had  really  charmed  me.  "I  should  like  to  bring  him 
to  see  you,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  I  should  be  so  glad!" 

Mr.  Gaynor  came  home,  but  he  had  not  recovered 
from  the  surprise.  I  loitered  awhile,  but  I  knew  my 
mother  would  be  waiting  for  me. 

I  was  quite  a  hero,  I  found.  The  older  men  congrat 
ulated  me,  the  boys  envied  me.  Mr.  Le  Moyne  was 
very  gracious  and  affable.  He  came  and  had  a  long  talk 
with  mother  and  she  was  charmed  with  him.  He  went 
to  the  Gaynors'  with  me  and  pronounced  Mr.  Gaynor 
shrewd  and  intelligent.  Ruth,  he  thought  sweet  and 
pretty,  but  she  was  very  shy. 

Oh,  how  quickly  the  time  sped  by.  A  winter  jour 
ney  was  no  light  thing  in  those  days,  but  Mr.  Le 
Moyne  was  well  prepared  and  a  seasoned  traveller. 

The  good-bys  and  the  good  wishes  were  enough  to 
start  one  on  a  prosperous  journey.  And  when  I 


THEN  THE  UNCOMMON  99 

glanced  back  I  saw  my  mother  had  the  Little  Girl  by  the 
hand.  They  were  the  two  dearest  souls  on  the  earth 
to  me.  How  would  she  look  when  I  met  her  again? 
Oh,  what  long,  long  years!  Even  then  I  could  have 
turned  back  gladly. 


CHAPTER  VII 

FROM   THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE 

I  WAS  so  lonely  after  Norman  went  away.  I  suppose 
it  had  been  almost  like  having  a  brother.  Mrs.  Hayne 
and  I  went  to  see  him  start,  and  there  was  quite  a 
crowd  of  friends.  The  sun  was  shining  as  if  it  was  a 
May  day,  with  that  curious  quiver  in  the  air,  and  it 
was  truly  pleasant.  Of  course,  pinning  our  faith  to  the 
Almanac,  we  could  safely  have  said  winter  had  come 
to  an  end,  but  in  Chicago  March  did  not  mean  spring. 

What  a  handsome  face  that  Mr.  Le  Moyne  had,  and 
his  voice  was  so  sweet  as  he  said,  "Never  fear,  he  will 
come  back  safe.  You  may  see  us  both  before  you  ex 
pect  it." 

I  suppose  that  was  meant  for  Norman's  mother,  but 
he  gave  me  the  smile  as  well. 

"You  had  better  come  home  with  me,"  she  said,  still 
holding  my  hand. 

"Oh,  no,  I  can't,"  I  replied.  "I  am  mending  some 
bags  for  father.  I  couldn't  finish  them  yesterday." 

"These  hands  are  too  little  to  sew  rough  bags." 

"M'liss  is  going  to  help  me." 


FROM  THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE  101 

"Oh,  then,  I  suppose  I  must  let  you  go.  Come  over 
to  supper,  won't  you?" 

"I  will  see,"  but  I  felt  my  cheeks  burn,  for  I  really 
did  not  mean  to,  much  as  I  loved  her.  I  did  not  want  to 
hear  them  talk  about  Norman  and  rejoice  at  his  good 
fortune.  It  was  good,  I  know,  but  I  was  not  quite 
ready  to  be  glad  over  it.  I  wanted  a  little  time  to  get 
my  mind  steady. 

M'liss  had  the  bags  strewn  around  and  the  baby  in 
the  midst  of  them.  He  really  was  growing  better  look 
ing,  his  chin  was  filling  out  and  his  forehead  began  to 
be  a  little  bump  that  broke  the  smooth  descent  from 
the  top  of  his  head.  But  it  seemed  as  if  his  mouth 
grew  wider. 

"D'yr  know  what  I've  jest  gone  an'  done?  Yer  pop'll 
scold  like  fire  'n'  tow,  but  that  ther'  bag  jest  wasn't  any 
bag  at  all  but  holes.  'N'  I've  jest  took  it  to  mend 
t'others.  Two  patches  an'  that  ther'  little  smitch  was 
all  I  could  git  out  of  it.  Holes  ginerally  speaking 
haven't  much  savin'  grace  to  'em.  You  jest  can't  con 
vert  'em  to  anything." 

I  looked  rather  askance.  Bags  were  bags  in  those 
days. 

"What  yer  pop  wants  is  to  git  a  piece  o'  baggin'. 
Marty  Pettingil's  weavin'  of  it.  For  a  good  strong 
heft  o'  corn  er  grain  '11  punch  new  holes  in  'em 
quicker'n  wink.  En  ther's  somethin'  'bout  puttin'  new 
wine  in  old  bottles,  though  I  don't  see  jest  why  if  you 
leave  stoppers  out.  Any  fool  oughter  know  enough 
fer  that.  En  patchin'  old  bags  is  like  darnin'  old 
stockin's,  tears  out  jest  above  en  below  an'  all  round. 


loi         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

I  put  a  patch  on  'em  now.  That's  an  idee  of  my  own 
en  saves  a  lot  o'  stitches.  Them  bags  is  mended." 

I  shook  out  two  and  laid  them  by.  Then  I  brought 
out  a  wolf  rug  and  put  the  baby  on  that.  He  crowed 
a  little  and  then  returned  to  his  former  employment  of 
gnawing  his  fist.  "The  baby  is  real  good,"  I  said. 
"Does  he  ever  cry?" 

"Oh,  Lord  yes!  But  he's  findin'  out  that  it  don't 
amount  to  much  an'  times  whenst  he's  cross  en  don't 
have  stomach  ache  I  hit  him  a  good  slap,  en  I  give  him 
a  piece  o'  pork  rind  to  chaw  on.  It's  good  as  a  dose 
o'  ile." 

There  was  not  much  science  or  sanitary  knowledge 
in  those  days.  Yet  children  throve  and  grew. 

I  hunted  up  my  work-box.  Homer  had  made  it, 
though  it  was  Norman's  gift.  We  had  pasted 
some  bits  of  pretty  paper  in  most  of  the  compart 
ments. 

"Now  you  jest  g'long,"  said  M'liss,  brandishing  her 
formidable  needle.  "Tain't  enny  kind  o'  work  for  you, 
an  Norme  he  stopped  t'other  night  an'  said — 'You  jest 
do  the  hard  things  and  chores,  M'liss,  to  save  her.  She 
ain't  strong  ernough  to  tackle  'em,  an'  I'll  make  it  all 
straight  with  you  when  I  kem  back.'  " 

"It  was  so  good  in  him  to  think  of  that !" 

"'N'  if  you  want  to  work  go  out  en  hunt  aiggs. 
Caton's  folks  sent  over.  Two  dozen  ef  you've  got  'em 
to  spare." 

I  was  very  glad  to  do  that.  It  was  a  mystery  to  our 
neighbors  how  father  could  make  hens  lay  in  cold 
weather.  They  had  a  good  tight  house  for  the  night, 


FROM  THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE  103 

and  he  seldom  let  them  out  until  noon.  We  threw  the 
corn  in  on  the  ear,  and  it  was  quite  fun  to  see  them 
tumble  over  each  other  to  pick  it  off. 

I  only  found  fourteen,  but  I  knew  there  would  be 
more  by  noon.  How  pretty  and  white  they  were, 
almost  like  living  things. 

I  took  up  my  knitting.  Men's  stockings  came  up 
over  the  knees  then,  and  it  was  a  good  long  stretch  to 
knit  the  legs.  M'liss  had  pared  a  great  panful  of 
potatoes,  so  I  filled  up  the  big  kettle  with  water  and 
swung  it  over  the  blaze. 

"Now  ef  you  kin  find  a  crust  o'  bread — I  guess  that 
youngun's  hungry,  en  I  don't  want  no  growlin'." 

"Why,  he  can't  eat  bread  with  no  teeth !" 

"Well,  he  kin  gnaw  it,  en  if  he  thinks  he's  gittin' 
some  it'll  be  all  the  same." 

"It  wouldn't  be  for  a  hungry  man,"  and  I  smiled. 

"Land  no !  En  if  he  takes  after  his  father  the  Lord 
help  us!  Jed  Hatch  kin  eat  mor'n  any  two  men  I 
know." 

The  bags  were  mended  and  piled  up  in  the  out 
kitchen.  M'liss  cooked  the  potatoes  and  fried  the  pork 
while  I  laid  the  table.  The  baby  rolled  over  asleep 
with  his  crust  still  in  his  hand  and  his  mouth.  Father 
came  in  and  gave  my  cheek  a  soft  pinch. 

"I  was  afraid  you  had  been  crying  your  eyes  out," 
he  said.  "Brave  little  girl,  we'll  miss  him  bad  enough, 
but  it's  such  a  fine  chance  and  there's  such  a  lot  of 
Hayne  boys.  Guess  he's  the  smartest  of  the  lot 
though,  where  books  are  concerned,  but  it  isn't  every 
body  that's  wantin'  book  learning.  Why,  it's  said  that 


io4        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

fine  old  fellow  Mr.  Le  Moyne's  worth  thousands  and 
thousands !" 

"I've  been  kinder  respectin'  yer  feelin's,"  said  M'liss 
in  a  low  tone  "en  thought  I  wouldn't  say  anythin' 
about  Norme  goin'  away,  seein'  as  ye  was  sich 
friends.  Yer'll  miss  him  jest  orful,  he  was  here  so 
much." 

I  winked  hard  to  keep  the  tears  back. 

"Harris  says  they  won't  find  another  boy  like  him  in 
a  hurry.  I  don't  know  what's  got  into  boys  nowa 
days,  they  ain't  worth  their  salt.  Seem  to  think  they 
were  put  into  the  world  jest  to  loaf  round.  That 
horse-racing  will  be  the  ruin  of  them.  I'd  have  it 
stopped  if  I  was  boss." 

I  didn't  so  much  mind  the  talk  of  boys  in  general. 
Father  ate  a  good  hearty  dinner  and  went  off  to  work, 
pleased  to  find  the  bags  mended.  M'liss  ate  her  din 
ner,  fed  her  baby,  washed  the  dishes  and  took  some 
potatoes  home  with  her,  though  she  '"lowed  she'd  stay 
and  company  me  if  she  hadn't  promised  to  rub  out 
Mis'  Crane's  wash,  seein'  she  had  rheumatiz'  and 
wasn't  strong." 

It  was  a  lonely  afternoon,  for  I  was  thinking  of  the 
evenings  in  all  the  two  years  to  come.  If  I  had  a 
sister!  There  were  no  girls  near  by.  Over  the  other 
side  of  the  river  there  were  so  many  of  them  and  they 
were  always  having  such  good  times. 

It  was  a  long,  long  afternoon.  I  fed  the  chickens 
and  shut  them  up  and  then  cooked  the  supper.  We 
were  hardly  through  when  there  was  a  cheery  whistle 
in  the  outer  kitchen  and  Ben  Hayne  came  in. 


FROM  THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE  105 

"Mother  sent  me  over  to  say  she  was  coming  this 
afternoon  only  Mis'  Carpenter  an'  Mis'  Wooley 
come  a-visiting.  They  are  there  yet.  I  was  kep'  in 
school." 

"Then  you  haven't  had  any  supper.  Come  and  have 
a  bite,  though  I  expect  you  have  lots  of  good  things 
at  home." 

People  in  those  days  made  a  great  spread  for  com 
pany. 

"Yes,  and  stay  a  bit  with  Ruth  while  I  go  out  and 
smoke  a  pipe,"  said  father. 

Ben  nodded  and  sat  down  at  the  table. 

"Ruth,"  he  began,  when  he  had  demolished  a  big 
slice  of  bread,  "I  feel  somehow  as  if  there  had  been  a 
funreal.  I  s'pose  it  is  'cause  we  know  Norme  isn't 
coming  back  in  ever  so  long.  But  say,  won't  he  have 
just  the  beatinest  time!  We  were  looking  up  the  places 
on  the  map.  Norme  was  such  a  good  fellow.  I'm 
going  to  try  to  get  in  a  store  next  year.  Father  says 
I  may." 

"That  will  be  a  nice  thing." 

"And  over  here,  too.  Then  I  can  drop  in  just  as 
Norme  used  to.  Mother  doesn't  see  what  you're  going 
to  do  alone.  She'll  be  over  to-morrow.  Wouldn't  it 
be  a  great  scheme  for  you  to  move  ?" 

"Oh,  father  couldn't  move  the  ground  and  every 
thing,"  I  returned. 

"No,  I  s'pose  not."  Then  he  laughed.  "They're  going 
to  move  some  ground  though  come  summer  to  fill  up 
the  slough.  Dear  me,  I  wish  we  had  some  moun 
tains  !" 


io6        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

I  could  recall  some  mountains  in  the  old  State  we 
had  come  from,  yet,  somehow,  I  had  begun  to  love 
the  long  stretch  of  prairie. 

"Tell  me  what  you  are  learning  at  school,"  I  said, 
as  I  was  putting  away  the  supper  things. 

He  was  in  full  swing  when  there  was  a  rap  at  the 
door.  To  my  great  surprise  it  was  Mr.  Abner  Harris. 
He  greeted  Ben  very  cordially,  and  they  began  to  talk 
about  Norman  at  once,  and  what  a  splendid  prospect 
he  had  before  him. 

"He  is  worthy  of  it,  too,"  said  Mr.  Harris,  "or  I 
could  not  have  recommended  him.  I  am  about  as 
sorry  to  part  with  him  as  any  one.  I  don't  know  when 
we  will  find  such  another  painstaking  fellow.  You 
will  miss  him  about  reading,  won't  you?"  turning  to 
me,  "and  I  came  over  to  say  that  if  you'd  like  to  bor 
row  any  of  the  books  I  have,  you'd  be  welcome  to 
them.  My  sister  is  going  to  call  on  you.  Why,  you 
must  get  lonesome  here  with  no  one  but  your  father." 

"I've  never  had  any  one  else,"  I  replied,  "and  every 
body  has  been  very  good  to  me." 

"And  you  are  your  father's  housekeeper?" 

"Partly  a  woman  comes  in  to  help." 

"I  thought  you  were  larger,  older,  though  I  have 
never  noticed  you  especially.  Well,  some  evening  I'll 
bring  my  sister  over.  She  has  no  children,  to  her  great 
sorrow,  so  you  must  make  friends." 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to,"  I  said. 

Father  came  in  before  he  went  and  they  had  a  little 
talk,  mostly  about  the  good  fortune  that  had  befallen 
Norman. 


FROM  THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE  107 

Then  we  shut  up  the  house  and  went  to  bed.  Yes,  it 
must  be  something  like  a  funeral.  The  body  went  out 
of  the  house.  I  wondered  how  any  one  could  bear  to 
have  it  put  in  the  ground.  Norman  had  read  about 
some  country — I  think  it  was  Egypt — where  they 
built  real  houses  for  their  dead  and  put  in  them  the 
things  their  relatives  had  used  while  alive,  painted  and 
carved  pictures  on  the  walls  and  went  in  to  see  them 
now  and  then.  That  seemed  ever  so  much  nicer  than 
lowering  them  into  the  earth. 

"But  Norman  isn't  dead,"  I  said  to  myself,  "and  he 
surely  will  come  back."  I  ran  it  over  in  my  mind. 
Seven  hundred  and  thirty  days.  Each  day  would 
count. 

I  recalled  the  time  I  had  first  seen  him  and  the  warm 
welcome  Mrs.  Hayne  had  given  us  after  that  long 
journey.  That  was  more  than  four  years  ago,  and 
then  I  laughed  softly  to  myself — why  he  would 
be  away  only  half  that  time,  and  the  four  years 
had  not  seemed  long.  So  I  dropped  asleep  quite 
happy. 

For  some  time  I  think  I  lived  mostly  in  the  past.  I 
began  to  go  to  school  again.  Spring  came  in  early  and 
everybody  was  astir.  Indians  came  down  with  pelts 
they  had  gathered  through  the  winter  and  there  were 
some  wigwams  put  up  out  on  the  prairies  where  they 
held  powwows  and  dances  and  laid  out  in  the  sun  and 
smoked  pipes.  They  were  a  lazy  lot  and  they  hung 
around  until  all  their  money  was  spent.  They  were 
paid  largely  in  clothing,  blankets  and  useful  articles, 
but  they  kept  trading  them  off,  and  though  there  were 


io8        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

some  stringent  rules  about  selling  them  any  quantity 
of  whiskey,  they  managed  to  get  it  all  the  same.  Then, 
by  degrees  they  started  off  north  again  to  join  their 
brethren  who  objected  to  civilized  life. 

But  there  was  quite  a  stationary  residue.  The 
squaws  seemed  to  improve  much  faster  than  the  braves, 
though  they  had  all  the  hard  work  to  do.  They  dug 
up  the  ground  and  planted  corn  and  other  vegetables, 
they  dressed  skins  and  made  clothing  and  moccasins 
and  ornamental  bead  work,  which  they  sold.  Occa 
sionally  some  of  the  traders  bought  a  store  of  it  to 
take  to  the  eastward. 

Father  kept  adding  to  his  stretch  of  prairie  land  all 
the  time.  He  had  the  true  Yankee  thrift  as  I  came 
to  know  afterwards.  Yet  at  this  early  date  Yankees 
were  not  held  in  very  high  esteem  and  peddlers  were 
rather  tabooed.  Indeed,  at  one  time  there  had  been  a 
license  of  fifty  dollars  exacted  for  selling  wooden 
clocks  in  the  whole  State.  The  law  was  against 
"bringing  in  and  selling."  But  the  shrewd  Yankee 
evaded  this  by  some  parties  bringing  them  in,  and 
quite  another  party  selling  them.  So  it  was  proved 
that  neither  man  was  amenable  to  the  law,  which  pres 
ently  fell  into  desuetude. 

There  had  been  another  funny  point  in  the  license  of 
Mr.  Mark  Baubein  when  his  ferry  was  first  estab 
lished.  He  kept  two  racing  horses  and  was  very  fond 
of  getting  up  a  trial  of  speed  with  some  of  the  young 
Indians  who  were  crazy  over  this  amusement.  So 
he  was  ordered  to  ferry  the  citizens  of  Cook  County 
from  daylight  in  the  morning  until  dark  without  stop- 


FROM  THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE  109 

ping,  and  the  query  was  whether  the  citizens  were 
compelled  to  go  without  stopping. 

The  Tremont  Hotel  was  being  builded  anew,  and 
some  of  the  seventeen  houses  erected  again.  Much 
more  care  was  taken.  There  seemed  to  be  a  general 
awakening  throughout  the  town.  Streets  were  length 
ened  and  Wolf's  Point  at  the  junction  of  the  two 
branches  of  the  river  did  not  seem  near  so  far  away. 

There  were  public  and  private  schools,  the  latter 
being  used  mostly  for  girls.  I  began  to  make  friends 
with  them,  living  over  the  river  and  going  only 
in  pleasant  weather  had  kept  me  out  of  their  latitude 
and  influence.  I  had  been  rather  a  shy  little  girl  and 
Norman  had  been  company  enough.  But  I  came  to 
have  a  wistful  sort  of  longing  for  some  of  my  own 
kind. 

Mrs.  Hayne  was  very  sweet  and  motherly.  She 
tried  to  persuade  father  to  move  over  her  side  of  the 
river.  It  had  the  most  advantages,  she  would  argue. 

"You  wait  and  see,"  father  would  reply.  "We're 
going  to  spread  out,  I  can  tell  you.  There's  room 
enough  for  two  cities,  and  I  have  so  much  outlying 
land.  I'm  in  for  raising  hogs  now  and  I  want  plenty 
of  room." 

Then  he  would  look  doubtfully  at  me  and  with  a 
half  laugh  say:  "I  wish  I  had  two  girls  instead  of 
one,"  and  I  wished  it  as  well. 

Mr.  Harris  brought  his  sister  to  see  us.  She  was  a 
Mrs.  Chadwick,  a  very  sweet,  quiet-looking  woman, 
with  none  of  the  breeziness  of  Mrs.  Hayne.  Her  hus 
band  was  very  much  interested  in  the  government  and 


no        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

improvement  of  the  town,  and  as  there  were  no  public 
halls  the  men  generally  gathered  at  some  of  the  better 
class  taverns  and  discussed  the  public  weal.  Father 
often  went,  though  he  did  not  take  any  active  part. 
Neither  did  Mr.  Harris,  for  he  attended  closely  to  busi 
ness  and  spent  his  evenings  at  home. 

"But  what  does  your  little  girl  do?"  asked  Mrs. 
Chadwick.  "Surely  you  do  not  leave  her  alone?" 

"I'm  not  afraid,"  I  said.  "I  put  up  the  bar  and  sew 
or  read  until  he  comes  home,  or  M'liss  comes  up  and 
sometimes  the  boys." 

"Abner,  we  must  have  her  up  with  us.  I  have  no 
little  girls,  but  I  think  we  could  entertain  you.  We 
have  plenty  of  books  to  read." 

"I'd  be  mighty  glad  to  have  you  take  her  in  hand," 
said  father.  "Mrs.  Hayne's  been  like  a  mother,  but 
you  see  that's  a  good  streak  off,  and  when  she  doesn't 
go  to  school  it's  rather  lonesome." 

"Of  course  you  miss  Norman  very  much,"  Mr. 
Harris  commented,  "he  was  a  nice  steady  fellow. 
Dan's  smart  too,  but  rather  wild.  I  don't  know  as  this 
town  is  the  best  place  to  bring  up  boys,  but  still  we've 
turned  out  some  pretty  nice  men.  I  suppose  there's  a 
time  when  most  of  them  kick  over  the  traces,  but  they 
get  broken  in  when  they  marry." 

There  had  one  letter  come  to  Mrs.  Hayne  from 
Norman.  They  were  at  Detroit  and  were  going  up  to 
the  Straits.  He  had  been  very  busy  and  a  good  deal 
homesick,  he  admitted,  but  he  liked  Mr.  Le  Moyne, 
and  would  never  be  sorry  that  he  had  started  out  in 
life.  There  were  so  many  wonderful  things  in  the 


FROM  THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE  in 

world.  At  the  Straits  he  would  write  more  at  length. 
"Give  my  love  to  little  Ruth,"  he  said,  "and  tell  her  she 
shall  have  a  good  long  letter." 

A  week  or  so  after  their  visit  Mr.  Harris  came  for 
me.  It  was  not  very  far.  They  had  quite  a  pretty 
cottage  and  a  really  beautiful  garden.  It  was  light 
enough  to  walk  through  it,  and  I  was  delighted.  I  had 
a  vague  idea  that  I  had  seen  such  gardens  in  our  old 
State.  Great  bunches  of  camomile  with  their  snowy 
disks  and  pungent  odor,  sweet  Williams  of  almost 
every  color,  a  tall  row  of  hollyhocks  just  coming  into 
bloom  ranged  along  the  fence,  a  bed  of  sweet  herbs, 
lavender,  thyme,  sage,  and  there  had  been  roses.  I 
thought  the  most  beautiful  of  all  were  the  tall  spikes  of 
pure  white  lilies  that  I  had  never  seen  before,  but  I 
came  to  know  afterward  were  annunciation  lilies,  and 
I  never  see  the  Virgin  with  her  branch  of  bloom  but 
it  carries  me  back  to  that  evening  in  the  old  garden. 

The  house  downstairs  had  a  sitting-room,  a 
kitchen  with  a  sort  of  shed-room  off,  and  a  sleeping- 
room.  The  first  named  had  a  fine  rag  carpet  on  the 
floor  of  Marty  Pettengill's  weaving  and  several 
boughten  chairs  that  had  come  from  Buffalo.  Tall 
brass  candlesticks  and  a  pair  of  curious  bronze-like 
pitchers  with  a  gay-colored  band  about  their  necks  and 
an  oval  of  a  girl's  face  set  in  their  sides,  that  always 
interested  me  very  much ;  a  table  between  the  windows 
with  a  Bible  and  hymn  book,  and  a  somewhat  tar 
nished  gilt  frame  mirror  that  broadened  out  at  the  top 
with  a  sort  of  cornice  that  enclosed  a  picture  that  I 
used  to  study  of  a  young  man  in  a  boat  and  a  girl  just 


H2        A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

stepping  into  it.  She  held  up  a  blue  gown  that  was 
meant  for  silk  by  the  shine  of  it,  and  had  the  daintiest 
slippered  foot  laced  up  over  the  instep  with  black  cord. 
I  admired  her  very  much  at  first,  then  I  grew  tired  of 
her,  for  I  wanted  to  have  her  step  into  the  boat  and 
see  him  row  away. 

Upstairs,  where  we  went  presently,  Mr.  Harris  had 
a  sleeping  chamber  and  what  we  might  now  call  a 
library,  or  a  den.  There  was  a  pair  of  huge  antlers 
over  the  narrow  mantle  that  divided  off  the  fireplace. 
There  were  several  guns  and  powder  horns  and  some 
Indian  trophies,  and  curious  things  I  knew  afterward 
were  lichens  from  forest  trees.  The  chairs  were 
mostly  homemade,  and  there  was  a  box  lounge  with  an 
Indian  blanket  over  it.  In  both  corners  of  the  chimney 
from  there  to  the  wall  were  shelves  with  books  and 
various  curiosities  from  many  parts  of  the  continent. 

"Here's  where  Norman  and  I  sat  and  read  after  I 
found  he  had  a  liking  for  books,"  Mr.  Harris  said. 
"Books  are  my  choicest  friends.  You  run  to  verses, 
though,  don't  you?"  looking  at  me.  "I  suppose  that  is 
natural  for  girls." 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  interposed  Mrs.  Chadwick. 
"When  I  was  a  little  girl  I  just  hated  verses,  perhaps 
because  I  was  compelled  to  learn  them  by  heart,  and 
occasionally  speak  a  piece  for  the  entertainment  of  my 
mother's  friends.  Stories  were  considered  very  demor 
alizing  and  giving  children  and  young  people  false 
views  of  life.  We  were  allowed  'Rosamond  and  the 
Purple  Jar/  on  account  of  the  fine  moral." 

She  laughed  softly. 


FROM  THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE  113 

"Rosamond — "  I  repeated  doubtfully. 

"Oh,  haven't  you  ever  seen  that?" 

"No,  ma'am,"  I  admitted  frankly. 

"Oh,  Abner,  do  read  it  to  the  child,"  she  exclaimed 
smilingly. 

Mr.  Harris  had  lighted  two  candles  and  stood  them 
on  a  stand  that  I  remember  was  painted  green,  and  a 
gay-colored  mat  on  it. 

So  I  heard  Rosamond  and  her  unwise  choice.  I  had 
seen  some  glass  jars  with  colored  liquid  in  them  at  Mr. 
Carpenter's  drug  store,  but  I  couldn't  understand 
even  then  how  any  one  could  make  such  a  sacrifice  to 
possess  one. 

"Why,  I  should  have  found  some  poke  berries  and 
mashed  them  up  and  put  some  water  on  them,"  I  said, 
"and  there  are  dye  stuffs — " 

"Perhaps  poke  didn't  grow  in  Rosamond's  country," 
said  Mrs.  Chadwick  with  a  laugh. 

"I'd  rather  had  a  jar  of  flowers,  though  that  would 
not  have  lasted,"  I  added  as  an  afterthought. 

"And  you  do  not  like  the  story?" 

"I  think  Rosamond  was  a  foolish  girl." 

"So  her  mother  thought,  and  she  made  her  suffer 
for  it — learn  by  experience,  as  we  say." 

Mr.  Harris  laughed  heartily. 

"What  else  did  you  do  when  you  were  a  little  girl  ?" 
I  asked  with  some  curiosity.  It  seems  strange  to  one 
in  childhood  that  a  grown-up  woman  could  ever  have 
been  a  little  girl. 

She  had  lived  in  Philadelphia  and  been  one  of  quite 
a  large  family  of  plain  Methodist  people,  almost  as 


ii4        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

strict  as  Quakers.  She  had  gone  to  Western  New 
York  with  a  married  sister  and  had  met  Mr.  Chad- 
wick  there  and  married  him,  and  after  they  had  moved 
to  Chicago  her  brother  Abner  had  come  out.  Most  of 
the  older  members  of  the  family  were  dead.  Her 
sister  lived  at  Ithaca  now  and  had  quite  a  large  family, 
with  some  grandchildren. 

I  was  wonderfully  interested  in  these  reminiscences ; 
indeed,  I  was  quite  captivated  by  Mrs.  Chadwick.  She 
was  very  different  from  Mrs.  Hayne,  and  I  wondered 
if  it  was  not  disloyal  to  like  her  so  well.  I  understood 
afterward  that  it  was  the  difference  made  by  education 
and  leisure. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  evening  and  gave  me  some 
new  ideas.  Mr.  Harris  brought  me  home.  Father  had 
come  back  and  was  sitting  on  the  doorstep  smoking 
his  pipe. 

"I  was  wondering  if  I  had  lost  my  little  girl !"  he 
exclaimed  with  a  short  half  laugh.  "But  I  guess  I 
should  have  known  where  to  look  for  her." 

"We  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  her  any  time,"  was 
the  response,  "and  you  must  not  leave  her  here  alone. 
Not  that  there's  anything  to  fear,  but  it's  lonesome." 

"I  look  out  for  that,"  and  father  nodded,  drawing 
me  closer  to  his  knee  and  tightening  his  arm  about  me. 
We  did  love  each  other  dearly,  but  people  in  that  day 
were  not  effusive.  There  was  so  much  work  to  do  in 
the  new  countries  that  affection  ran  more  to  deeds  than 
words  or  caresses. 

A  few  days  after  I  had  my  grand,  glad  surprise — a 
letter  from  Norman.  From  Detroit  they  had  gone  up 


FROM  THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  SIDE  115 

to  Marquette  on  Lake  Superior,  where  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  business  to  straighten  out  and  claims  to 
adjust.  The  world  was  wonderful  and  splendid.  One 
hardly  had  any  idea  of  it  in  Chicago,  and  Mr.  Le 
Moyne  was  proving  one  of  the  most  generous  and 
charming  of  friends.  Norman  was  learning  French. 
It  was  almost  universally  used  up  there,  and  Mr.  Le 
Moyne  was  a  great  reader  of  French  literature  and 
knew  pages  of  it  by  heart.  "I  wish  you  could  study 
it,  too,"  he  wrote,  and  then  he  gave  me  places  to  trace 
out  on  the  map  where  they  had  been;  and  there  was 
the  great  Lake  Superior  and  the  Indian  countries,  the 
most  elegant  furs  one  could  imagine,  and  a  variety 
of  strange  and  beautiful  animals.  The  trad 
ing  stations  and  the  small  towns  were  so  picturesque, 
the  people  curious  indeed.  Altogether  it  sometimes 
seemed  like  a  dream  to  him,  and  he  could  not  put  half 
the  wonderful  things  in  a  letter.  They  were  to  return 
to  Detroit  and  I  was  to  send  a  letter  there  and  tell  him 
all  about  myself,  and  if  I  missed  him  very  much,  if 
I  took  the  old  walks  and  read  the  old  poems  over,  and 
what  I  was  learning. 

At  that  period  mails  were  slow  and  uncertain,  and 
letters  were  often  sent  by  friends.  An  appeal  had  been 
made  to  the  general  government,  and  Mr.  Hogan  was 
postmaster,  combining  it  with  some  other  businesses. 
The  little  old  place  was  quite  a  rendezvous  on  mail  day, 
though  no  one  was  ever  certain  of  that  even.  A  row 
of  old  boots  nailed  up  for  mail  boxes  created  much 
amusement.  But  mere  friendship  letters  were  a  rarity. 
Indeed,  writing  a  letter  was  considered  a  great  feat.  If 


n6        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

one  heard  from  friends  once  a  year  it  brought 
content.  Postage  was  very  high,  and  in  new  countries 
money  was  scarce. 

I  labored  over  my  letter,  writing  it  first  on  various 
scraps  of  paper,  as  I  could  think  of  things  I  wanted  to 
say.  Books  are  written  nowadays  with  more  ease. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WITHOUT  NORMAN 

IT  seemed  suddenly  as  if  Chicago  took  a  great  leap. 
Perhaps  the  whole  country  was  more  prosperous.  But 
everybody  was  full  of  business,  and  immigrants  were 
pouring  in  at  the  rate  of  ten  a  day,  the  newspaper 
announced.  They  were  of  all  kinds.  Some  from 
Virginia,  many  from  the  two  States  south  of  us,  hardy 
people  with  an  uncouth  dialect  and  new  ways  that  were 
more  or  less  picturesque.  The  men  had  been  great 
hunters  and  could  hardly  adapt  themselves  to  any  em 
ployment  at  first.  The  women  were  used  to  all  kinds 
of  household  work.  They  hetcheled  flax  and  it  was 
very  entertaining  to  me  to  see  the  mass  swept  across 
the  sharp  wires  and  the  person  drawing  her  body  back 
with  a  monotonous  croon,  then  starting  forward  again. 
The  soft  silvery  stuff  was  laid  in  a  pile  by  itself,  and 
how  beautiful  it  looked.  The  rough  and  coarse  strands 
were  for  common  uses. 

I  could  spin  quite  well  now,  but  I  used  to  love  to 
watch  these  other  spinners  with  their  deft  motions. 
The  big  wheel  fairly  fascinated  me,  and  the  nimble 


n8         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

running  back  and  forth.  The  great  dye  tubs,  too, 
with  their  yellows  and  browns,  blues,  and  reds  and  the 
long  hanks  of  yarn  hung  out  in  the  sun,  dipped  over 
and  over  to  darken  them  until  they  made  some  really 
handsome  shades. 

Besides  these  people  there  came  quite  a  colony  of 
French  in  our  neighborhood.  I  was  glad  of  this, 
though  it  seemed  as  if  their  "jabber"  was  too  intricate 
to  be  taken  up  by  any  native  tongue.  Their  attire  was 
much  more  picturesque  than  that  of  the  Kentucky 
women,  and  they  disported  themselves  in  brighter 
colors.  A  short  skirt,  a  bodice  laced  up  both  front  and 
back,  and  above  this  a  white  body  with  sleeves,  the  neck 
drawn  in  with  a  ruffle  and  tied  with  a  bright  ribbon. 
White  stockings  and  low  shoes  with  a  great  buckle, 
though  some  of  the  older  people  had  these  laid  by  as 
mementoes  of  their  younger  days.  The  church  was  at 
quite  a  distance  and  a  priest  came  over  and  held  ser 
vice  in  the  morning  for  them  in  a  little  log  house.  I 
used  to  love  to  watch  them  going  to  and  fro  with 
prayer  book  and  rosary  and  happy,  smiling  faces, 
always  chattering. 

There  were  Germans,  too.  We  seemed  fair  to  be  a 
conglomerate  town.  All  along  the  lake,  houses  were 
stretching  up  north  and  down  to  the  southern  end. 
The  shipyard  was  a  scene  of  activity;  indeed,  most 
people  were  very  busy.  Wheat  fields  and  cornfields 
increased  and  cattle  were  multiplying.  Everything 
rushed  through  the  summer;  indeed,  it  seemed  as 
though  one  could  see  the  corn  grow;  and  was  there 
ever  a  prettier  sight  than  when  it  tasselled  out  and 


WITHOUT  NORMAN  119 

blossomed  in  the  soft  yellow.  It  was  like  a  great  army. 
I  used  to  look  at  it  sometimes  until  I  could  believe  it 
was  a  giant  host  advancing,  and  I  would  shrink  back 
in  fright. 

We  had  a  school  on  our  side  that  summer,  and  what 
with  that  and  Mrs.  Chadwick,  I  did  not  go  to  the 
Haynes'  as  often  as  before.  Ben  and  Homer  came 
over  frequently.  Homer  was  a  big  fellow,  almost  as 
tall  as  Dan,  and  quite  a  favorite  with  the  girls  as  well. 
There  were  many  pleasure  parties  for  the  grown-up 
ones — rowing,  when  the  lake  was  not  too  rough,  and 
sailing  parties.  Some  of  the  more  venturesome  ones 
took  an  excursion  over  to  Black  Rock. 

Our  nearest  French  neighbors  were  the  Piagets,  and 
the  two  girls,  Sophie  and  Nanette,  soon  became  very 
friendly.  Nanette  was  a  little  younger  than  I,  Sophie, 
nearly  two  years  older,  bright,  vivacious  girls,  who 
had  some  accomplishments  beyond  our  ken.  We 
sewed  patchwork,  but  it  was  difficult  to  get  pieces, 
though  now  and  then  a  quilt  was  made  of  blue  and 
white.  But  Sophie  could  make  fringe  with  an  ingen 
ious  knot  in  it,  and  she  could  knit  edging.  That  set  all 
us  girls  crazy  to  learn. 

They  talked  rather  broken  English  and  were  very 
eager  to  perfect  themselves.  And  after  screwing  my 
courage  up  many  degrees  I  confessed  I  would  like 
to  learn  French.  What  work  we  made  of  it,  and  how 
we  laughed  at  the  German  tongue !  You  began  to  hear 
it  quite  often  in  the  street. 

M'liss  had  taken  up  her  abode  with  us.  Jed  Hatch 
had  gone  lumbering  up  the  lake,  above  where  Mil- 


izo        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

waukee  now  stands,  where  there  was  some  fine  timber 
that  could  be  rafted  down  in  auspicious  weather. 
They  had  what  we  should  now  call  a  logging  camp. 
Father  wondered  how  they  had  ever  persuaded  Jed  to 
join  them,  but  I  think  M'liss  had  a  strong  hand  in  it. 
So  she  brought  little  Joe,  who  was  now  quite  a 
respectable  baby.  Mrs.  Chadwick  had  more  than  once 
said  to  father  some  woman  ought  to  come  in  and  take 
charge,  and  M'liss  thought  she  made  a  good  bargain 
hiring  out  her  house  for  a  certain  amount  of  repairs. 

M'liss  brought  her  big  wheel,  the  little  one  I  had 
already,  but  when  I  would  have  spun  she  turned  me 
away  with  a  gentle  push  and — 

"Oh,  you  jest  g'lang.  Ther'  be  time  er  nough  nex' 
winter,  when  you  can't  run  out  en  play  en  skip  round. 
En  ther's  so  little  work  to  do  I'm  main  afeared  I'll  git 
rickets  by  so  much  sittin'  still." 

Then  M'liss  was  in  her  element  cooking,  and  father 
enjoyed  that. 

Sophie  was  very  eager  to  see  Chicago.  They  had 
lived  inland  many  miles  from  Kaskaskia,  and  as  I  came 
to  know  afterward,  had  a  hard  struggle  with  poverty. 

"I  think  everybody  has  come  from  somewhere  else," 
she  said  one  day,  when  I  had  been  telling  about  the 
Haynes,  the  Wrights,  and  ourselves. 

"Why,  of  course,"  I  said,  "people  don't  grow  in  new 
countries  like  trees.  They  have  to  come  from  some 
where  else,"  and  she  laughed. 

It  was  true  enough.  When  we  arrived  at  a  time 
when  we  would  have  liked  a  Mayflower  or  a  Holland 
Mynheer,  Virginia  Cavaliers,  or  Spanish  Dons,  behold 


WITHOUT  NORMAN  121 

we  had  no  ancestry  that  had  risen  out  of  the  foam  or 
been  transplanted  by  fabled  Deity.  Only  sturdy, 
courageous,  hard-working  pioneers  who  had  seen  an 
objective  point  and  seized  it  and  dreamed  of  being  a 
connecting  link  between  the  East  and  the  West 
and  then  worked  mightily  to  make  the  dream  come 
true. 

We  rambled  about  the  old  places.  The  Ouilmette 
cabin  had  fallen  into  ruins,  but  the  memory  of  the 
trader  and  his  Indian  wife  still  hung  about  it.  We 
went  over  to  the  fort,  that  began  to  show  signs  of 
neglect.  Here  were  the  unmarked  graves  of  those  who 
had  perished  and  we  trod  softly.  Grass  and  a  few  wild 
flowers  were  springing  up  over  them.  Mrs.  Heald  and 
her  beautiful  horse  stirred  Sophie  as  it  had  me. 

"If  you  came  out  here  and  stayed  until  midnight, 
don't  you  suppose  you  could  see  her  go  riding  down 
to  escape  the  Indians?" 

I  shuddered.  "I  don't  believe  I  should  want  to  be 
here  at  midnight,"  I  said,  rather  awestricken. 

"Wouldn't  you  try  a  charm  to  see  your  future  hus 
band?"  she  queried. 

"I  don't  imagine  I  shall  ever  have  a  husband,"  I 
said,  with  a  curious  kind  of  assurance  about  the  future. 
I  seemed  to  belong  altogether  to  father. 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  stay  single  for  anything,"  she  cried, 
"and  here,  where  you  don't  need  to  have  a  dot,  it  must 
be  easy  to  get  a  husband." 

"A  dot?"  I  repeated  in  perplexity. 

"Why,  yes.  In  France,  Ma  mtre  had  to  have  some 
money  beside  a  string  of  gold  beads  and  two  rings  and 


izz        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

some  bed  and  table  linen.  Papa's  mother  would  hardly 
consent  then.  You  have  to  get  the  permission  of  the 
parents  on  both  sides,  and  then  you  have  two  mar 
riages." 

"How  queer!  Why,  it  is  almost  like  buying  your 
wife,"  I  said,  and  I  felt  my  eyes  open  wide. 

"And  now  we  are  poor  enough,"  and  she  sighed.  "I 
don't  know  whether  Nanette  and  I  could  have  any 
dot.  Then  you  generally  go  in  a  convent  and  become 
a  sister,  but  I  shouldn't  like  to  be  shut  up  and  only 
visit  poor  people  and  those  in  trouble.  There  is  a  con 
vent  in  New  Orleans  and  in  Canada." 

I  did  not  think  I  should  like  convent  life  either.  The 
Piaget  girls  went  to  the  Catholic  Church  in  state,  and 
the  priest  was  Father  Shoffer.  It  was  moved  to  the 
rear  of  St.  Mary's  Cathedral  afterward  and  used  as  a 
school-room,  but  children  of  all  denominations  went  to 
school  together.  The  Methodist  Church  had  been 
moved  across  the  river  two  years  before  on  scows,  the 
first  building  of  any  account  to  be  moved  intact. 
Everybody  had  thronged  to  see  the  wonderful  achieve 
ment. 

We  used  to  wander  by  the  edge  of  the  great  lake, 
often  picking  up  shells  in  the  sand.  I  had  quite  a  col 
lection,  some  beautiful  ones  Norman  had  given  me. 
Homer  had  made  me  a  box  that  I  covered  with  them, 
arranging  the  choicest  ones  on  the  top  in  a  figure  as 
near  to  a  rose  as  I  could  get  it. 

Ben  used  to  walk  with  us  sometimes.  The  magnifi 
cence  of  the  lake  down  here,  where  there  was  no  busi 
ness  and  nothing  but  the  swelling  waves  to  ruffle  its 


WITHOUT  NORMAN  123 

bosom,  always  filled  me  with  a  kind  of  reverent  awe. 
The  great  space  ending — where  ?  To  my  childish  mind 
it  was  like  the  ocean  that  I  had  never  seen.  I  could 
not  truly  believe  there  were  villages  and  wide  stretches 
of  ground  on  the  other  side.  I  liked  its  immensity. 
Several  times  we  had  been  here  on  a  moonlight  even 
ing,  when  it  was  silvered  over  and  set  with  tiny  gems. 
All  at  the  west  and  south  stretched  the  dusky,  blurring 
expanse,  but  to  the  eastward  one  could  imagine  that 
one  could  sail  into  the  heaven  that  touched  the  farther 
boundary  of  the  great  inland  sea.  That  wonderful 
angelic  blue  with  its  myriad  stars !  Were  they  worlds 
in  which  the  souls  of  the  redeemed  lived  again?  I 
wanted  to  talk  all  my  new  thoughts  over  with  Nor 
man.  I  seemed  to  have  acquired  so  many  in  this  brief 
while. 

There  was  another  great  excitement  about  this  time. 
Was  it  really  four  years  since  the  last  Presidential  elec 
tion  ?  The  town  was  all  astir  again.  The  same  candi 
dates  were  put  up.  Dan  Hayne  did  a  good  deal  of 
electioneering,  though  it  was  not  in  such  a  very  eager 
manner.  I  believe  most  of  the  people  felt  very  sore 
about  the  canal  that  was  to  open  the  Mississippi  to  us, 
which  dragged  along  to  little  purpose.  Then  the  pos 
tal  regulations  were  so  inefficient,  and  there  was  a 
complaint  about  many  things,  confusing  State  and 
general  government.  The  Kentucky  people  were  all 
for  General  Jackson,  and  some  of  the  old  men  declared 
they'd  vote  for  him  as  long  as  they  lived  whether  he 
was  alive  or  not.  The  two  papers  indulged  in  sharp 
rejoinders,  and  occasionally  stretched  the  point  of 


IH         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

truth,  at  least  each  accused  the  other  of  doing1  it. 
Father  pinned  his  faith  upon  the  American. 

People  were  very  busy,  too,  with  the  abundant  har 
vests.  Such  splendid  yield  of  wheat  as  there  had 
been!  And  to  think  of  all  this  labor  done  by  hand! 
One  would  have  been  smartly  ridiculed  if  he  had  pre 
dicted  the  day  of  mowers  and  reapers  and  great  grain 
elevators  run  by  steam.  Many  a  moonlight  night  men 
turned  out  and  worked  until  they  almost  dropped,  some 
did  stop  in  their  tracks  and  take  a  brief  nap  on  a 
fragrant  bed,  with  the  stars  for  watchers.  For  the 
winter  was  coming,  when  Nature  took  her  rest  and 
locked  our  little  world  with  her  icy  chains. 

There  was  beef  and  pork  packed  to  send  away, 
piles  of  hides,  bushels  of  grain,  and  the  prominent  busi 
ness  men  left  politics  to  care  for  itself  awhile.  The  river 
and  the  docks  were  thronged  and  piled  high,  we 
thought  then.  Ben  was  much  interested  in  this,  and 
now  had  gone  in  Norman's  place,  though  Mr.  Hub- 
bard's  business  was  growing  larger  every  year,  and 
new  warehouses  were  pushing  in. 

But  we  children  went  to  school,  and  at  home  fol 
lowed  the  useful  arts — spinning,  sewing,  knitting  and 
cooking.  We  had  little  time  for  the  fripperies  of  life. 
They  were  to  come  later. 

I  did  not  forget  my  reading  with  Mrs.  Chadwick, 
though  I  was  growing  very  fond  of  the  girls  and  girls' 
play.  Jed  Hatch  had  not  come  back,  so  M'liss  re 
mained  with  us.  There  was  a  great  stir  about  the 
copper  mines  in  northern  Michigan,  and  the  lead  at 
Galena.  Then  coal  was  being  discovered  here  and 


WITHOUT  NORMAN  125 

there,  and  men's  wits  were  put  to  work  in  inventing 
labor-saving  and  money-saving  machines. 

We  did  not  care  much  about  these,  though  the 
neighbors  who  stopped  at  the  garden  gate  or  sat 
awhile  on  the  stoop  talking  to  father  wondered  a  little 
if  this  or  that  could  not  be  done,  and  sometimes  laughed 
at  father  when  he  predicted  great  things  for  the  future 
of  Chicago.  We  did  not  look  much  like  it  in  those 
days,  though  people  were  beginning  to  build  brick 
houses  and  replace  their  old  log  structures  with  frame. 
Many  of  the  streets  were  simply  staked  out.  And 
when  the  Wrights  built  their  really  pretty  mansion 
down  near  what  was  the  end  of  Madison  Street,  they 
were  laughed  at  as  going  out  on  the  prairie. 

Good  water  seemed  a  serious  question.  There  were 
so  few  springs  good  for  anything.  We  caught  rain 
water  in  the  wet  season  and  filtered  it,  putting  it  in 
bottles  for  time  of  need,  when  after  a  good  shaking  up 
it  answered  very  well.  The  water  from  the  lake  was 
fine  if  taken  from  a  little  distance  out  or  farther  up. 
The  river  was  simply  dreadful. 

One  of  the  best  springs  had  an  odd  story.  The 
children  used  often  to  congregate  about  it  and  drink 
their  fill.  I  used  to  wonder  if  it  tasted  as  good  to  the 
stag  at  Monan's  rill  as  to  the  thirsty  children.  It  was 
called  Colonel  Baubein's  punch  bowl.  Half  a  dozen 
years  or  so  before,  the  State  ordered  that  the  militia 
of  Cook  County  should  be  duly  organized,  and  officers' 
elected.  There  was  quite  a  rivalry,  but  Mr.  John  Bau- 
bein  was  elected  over  all  opposition,  and  it  was  re 
solved  to  have  a  fine  celebration.  At  the  base  of  a 


126       A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN   OLD  CHICAGO 

small  bluff  the  spring  made  a  natural  basin.  This  was 
dammed  up  across  the  outlet  and  a  keg  of  brandy 
poured  in.  Six  dozen  lemons,  four  packages  of  loaf 
sugar  were  added,  and  the  whole  stirred  with  a  new 
clean  stick.  Most  of  the  town  turned  out,  and  sitting 
around  swapped  stories  and  drank  punch  until  they 
absolutely  lowered  the  novel  punch  bowl  and  went 
home  in  a  high  state  of  hilarity.  For  days  after  one 
and  another  stole  down,  happy  even  in  getting  a  taste 
of  the  weaker  stimulant. 

It  was  delightful  water  long  after  that,  and  the 
two  Baubein  brothers  were  famous  men  in  old 
Chicago. 

Champaign  squibs  and  songs  had  a  new  impulse  just 
then.  Even  the  children  who  could  made  rhymes  to 
the  glory  of  Tippecanoe.  And  then  there  was  a  sud 
den  and  well-nigh  unexpected  rejoicing — William 
Henry  Harrison  gained  the  day  by  a  handsome 
majority. 

Father  was  deeply  delighted,  though  he  did  not  ex 
actly  crow  over  his  opponents. 

"You'll  see  now,"  he  said,  "this  will  be  the  begin 
ning  of  good  times.  Four  years  from  now  you  will 
hardly  know  yourselves."  No  one  could  have  im 
agined  then  his  reign  would  be  so  brief. 

"If  there  could  be  more  money,  more  money,"  cried 
everybody.  The  canal  was  given  up  for  better  times, 
but  the  lake  was  left.  And  when  one  looked  over  the 
list  of  enterprising  citizens  and  found  the  hides  and 
wheat,  the  corn  and  pork  and  beef,  the  beans,  salt, 
the  furs,  and  the  lead,  there  was  no  need  of  feeling 


WITHOUT   NORMAN  127 

really  discouraged.     "Rome  wasn't  built  in  a  day," 
was  a  favorite  saying  of  father's. 

Mrs.  Hayne  and  I  had  good  long  letters  from  Nor 
man.  Mine  were  written  at  intervals  and  finished  at 
Detroit,  that,  like  some  of  the  other  towns,  had  a 
rather  romantic  history.  It  had  been  French  and  Eng 
lish,  it  had  been  a  great  trading  place  in  the  pioneer 
days ;  it  had  been  turned  over  to  the  United  States  by 
treaty,  then  given  up  to  the  English  by  General  Hull 
at  the  same  time  the  order  had  been  sent  for  the  evacu 
ation  of  Fort  Dearborn.  It  had  been  destroyed  by  fire 
and  rebuilt  on  a  more  generous  plan,  and  bid  fair  to  be 
a  fine  city. 

But  with  all  these  interesting  matters  Norman's 
heart  did  not  waver,  and  he  was  looking  steadily  for 
ward.  One  year  was  almost  gone.  He  had  been  very 
busy  and  happy,  had  proved  of  great  service  to  Mr. 
Le  Moyne,  and  had  acquired  much  knowledge.  He 
could  talk  French  quite  well,  and  was  learning  to  read 
correctly.  It  seemed  as  if  most  of  the  northern  world 
was  French.  Now  they  were  to  go  to  Montreal  and 
Quebec.  Would  I  find  some  histories  or  books  and 
read  up  about  those  famous  cities  and  the  heroes  who 
had  fought  and  died  for  them  ?  And  would  I  tell  him 
all  about  myself?  Was  I  growing  tall?  And  did  my 
hair  keep  its  beautiful  light  tint,  and  he  hoped  I  would 
care  for  my  complexion.  He  had  seen  some  such 
beautiful  girls,  some  splendid  Indian  maidens,  so  lovely 
he  did  not  wonder  white  men  married  them.  Did  Ben 
come  often,  and  did  I  like  him  very  much?  But  I 
must  not  put  any  one  in  his  place. 


iz8        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

He  could  write  ever  so  much  more — and  there  were 
pages  and  pages  in  the  letter,  but  there  were  so  many 
things  to  do,  and  this  letter  would  go  by  private  hands, 
with  some  other  matters  consigned  to  Newberry  & 
Dole.  For  postage  was  very  high  and  increased  with 
additional  miles. 

I  read  it  to  father,  and  he  was  very  much  pleased, 
but  he  made  one  little  growl.  There  are  some  voices 
that  express  disapprobation  that  way,  and  it  is  really 
more  amusing  than  unkind. 

"Like  Ben  Hayne!  Why,  he's  nothing  but  a  big, 
soft-headed  boy.  Homer's  smarter  in  his  little  finger 
than  Ben's  whole  body." 

"Ben  is  very  nice  and  kind,"  I  said  honestly,  "but 
Norman  is  the  best  of  all." 

He  gave  a  chuckle  at  that.  "You  mark  my  words, 
Homer  will  be  a  rich  man  some  day.  I  don't  know 
about  the  rolling  stones,  though  it  did  seem  an  excel 
lent  thing  for  Norman.  But  he  will  never  come  back 
here  and  settle  in  Chicago." 

Long  afterward  that  sentence  recurred  to  me. 

I  took  my  letter  over  to  Mrs.  Hayne.  Her's 
was  a  good  deal  on  the  same  lines,  only  there  were 
more  to  ask  about.  She  made  a  different  com 
ment. 

"Why  shouldn't  you  like  Ben!"  she  exclaimed, 
rather  tartly.  Then  as  she  looked  at  me  I  felt  hot  all 
over.  "Ben's  a  nice  boy  an'  he'll  make  a  nice  man  if 
he  gets  the  right  kind  of  wife.  He  will  do  quite  as 
well  as  Norman,  you'll  see  if  he  doesn't.  I  dare  say 
Norme  will  get  so  stuck  up  with  fine  people  an'  talkin' 


WITHOUT   NORMAN  129 

French  that  he'll  hardly  look  at  us  when  he  gets  back. 
I'm  most  sorry  I  consented  to  have  him  go." 

"But  he  will  be  back  in  another  year."  I  did  not 
think  he  could  change  so  very  much  in  that  time. 

"Mebbe  so,  mebbe  so,"  and  she  tossed  her  head. 

There  was  not  another  girl  in  school  who  had  a 
letter  from  a  friend  or  who  was  asked  to  write  one. 
My  secret  was  too  precious  to  be  bruited  abroad.  I 
put  it  in  my  box  of  treasures  and  read  it  over  when 
no  one  was  by.  It  seemed  very  silly  to  do  this,  and  yet 
I  took  fervent  pleasure  in  it. 

I  was  to  write  and  have  my  letter  go  in  a  package 
Mr.  Dole  was  to  send.  So  when  I  had  it  finished  I 
went  over  to  the  warehouse,  for  I  would  not  trust  it 
with  Ben.  I  had  some  trouble  to  find  Mr.  Dole,  and 
explained  the  matter  to  him. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  "I  shall  be  glad  to  do  this  for 
you.  I  think  he  will  be  in  Quebec  before  it  reaches 
him,  however." 

"Thank  you,"  I  replied,  with  a  little  curtsy. 


CHAPTER   IX 

WAS  EVER  LETTER   HALF  SO  DEAR? 

How  eagerly  we  devoured  the  paper  when  the  new 
President  was  inaugurated.  The  Whig  party  had  a 
ball  at  the  Tremont  Hotel,  and  the  young  ladies  who 
went  held  their  heads  very  high  for  weeks.  Polly  Mor 
rison  and  Peggy  Gamier  were  the  two  belles.  Miss 
Gamier  was  among  the  immigrants  from  the  border 
of  Kentucky.  Her  father  had  taken  a  great  interest  in 
cattle  raising  and  packing.  There  were  two  smaller 
girls  and  a  son,  who  certainly  was  a  spoiled  darling, 
even  in  those  days.  Margaret  Gamier  was  tall  and 
really  handsome.  Sixteen  was  grown  up  at  that 
period.  She  had  large,  beautiful  black  eyes,  and 
a  great  coil  of  black  hair  which,  those  who  knew, 
said  came  down  to  her  knees.  A  brunette  complexion, 
not  very  dark,  and  color  in  her  cheeks  like  an  opening 
rose;  by  all  odds,  the  handsomest  girl  in  the  room,  it 
was  said. 

But  Polly  Morrison  pressed  her  hard.  She  was  tall 
and  slim  and  with  the  litheness  of  figure  that  made 
every  movement  fascinating.  And  as  for  her  dancing, 


WAS  EVER  LETTER  HALF  SO  DEAR?   131 

every  man  was  crazy  to  dance  with  her,  and  when  he 
had  danced  once  he  was  bewitched  and  bound  to  dance 
again.  She  must  have  had  some  charm  in  spite  of  her 
red  hair  and  her  peculiar  eyes.  Her  skin  was  very 
white  and  she  rarely  flushed  all  over  her  face,  even 
when  she  had  been  dancing  at  her  wildest. 

Some  of  the  girls  in  school  had  sisters  or  brothers 
who  were  present.  Many  of  the  married  people  went 
as  well.  I  sat  at  home  and  studied  my  lessons,  then 
knit  some  rounds  on  a  pair  of  white  wool  stockings  for 
myself,  while  M'liss  told  of  some  dances  she  had  been 
to  out  at  the  old  fort. 

"An'  how  I  could  come  to  be  sech  an  id  jit  as  to 
marry  Jed  Hatch  I  can't  fer  the  life  of  me  'xplain 
now,  'cept  what  is  to  be  will  be  ef  it  doesn't  come  to 
pass  in  years,  en  ef  'tis  writ  down  agin  yer,  yer  can't 
'scape  it.  An'  now  he's  up  yander  'n  I'm  jest  as  good 
as  a  d'serted  wife,  airnin'  my  own  livin'." 

I  couldn't  altogether  fancy  M'liss  dressed  up  in  an 
airy  costume  dancing.  I  had  always  thought  her 
rather  heavy  footed. 

Dan  Hayne  was  one  of  the  stars  of  the  evening  as 
well,  and  no  one  could  have  mistrusted  as  he  and  Peggy 
whirled  round,  and  I  sat  between  the  chimney  and  the 
light  stand  knitting,  that  we  three  were  marked  out  for 
a  tragedy.  Was  it  true  what  M'liss  had  said — "That 
what  is  to  be  will  be  ?" 

The  girls  discussed  it  eagerly  at  recess.  Jenny 
Hale's  sister  Betty  was  at  the  ball  and  had  spiced  the 
breakfast  with  it. 

"Tears  like  them  two  girls  were  jest  neck  and  neck 


13*         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

for  Dan  Hayne,  Bet  said,  'n  he  was  the  han'somest  fel 
ler  in  the  room.  An'  Bet  danced  once  with  him  'n  she 
didn't  see  that  he  was  so  much  eleganter  than  Tee 
Kent,  'n  she  was  glad  she  had  a  feller  of  her  own.  Bet's 
goin'  to  be  married  when  Tee's  house  is  done — long  in 
May  that'll  be — en  ther'll  be  some  dancin'  then,  an'  I'll 
have  a  sheer,  you'll  see !" 

"You  need  a  little  grammar  more  than  you  do 
dancing,"  declared  Martha  Dole.  "You  talk  as  if  you 
had  just  come  out  of  the  backwoods." 

"Oh,  you  think  you're  great,  Mat  Dole!  You're 
mighty  stuck  up  on  a  little." 

"Girls,  don't  quarrel,"  said  a  soft  voice,  "and  it  does 
seem  as  if  we  might  pay  a  little  attention  to  teacher. 
You  know  she  wrote  out  a  lot  of  words  the  other  day 
that  she  asked  us  to  be  careful  about.  Some  of  us  do 
talk  outlandish." 

"I'll  talk  as  I  like.  I'm  way  ahead  of  you  in  figurin', 
an'  I  don't  care  a  pin  fer  grammar.  'Twont  help  you 
keep  house,  'n  I'm  goin'  to  be  married  first  chance 
I  have.  I  ain't  hankerin'  fer  school  teachin'  and 
sech." 

"What  sort  of  rigs  did  they  have  on  ?"  asked  another 
girl.  "My  mother's  got  a  satiny  frock  all  lace  and 
white  ribbons  that  she  was  married  in,  and  in  a  year  or 
two  I'll  grow  in  it.  You'll  see  me  dancing  when  the 
next  President  goes  in." 

The  bell  rang  and  we  filed  back  into  school.  M'liss 
heard  about  the  ball,  and  it  was  dished  up  at  supper. 

"The  men  had  a  big  dinner  which  was  quite  as  sen 
sible,"  said  father,  "except  the  whiskey,  and  if  they 


WAS  EVER  LETTER  HALF  SO  DEAR?      133 

hadn't  all  been  of  one  stripe  they'd  quarrelled.  Strange 
men  don't  know  enough  not  to  get  drunk !" 

Dan  Hayne  was  getting  to  be  one  of  the  young  men 
of  note — born  lucky,  people  said.  He  was  dickering 
in  a  good  many  things,  and  whatever  he  took  hold  of 
turned  out  well.  He  traded  one  of  his  horses  for 
some  wharf  property  and  a  few  weeks  afterward  sold 
that  at  an  advance,  and  so  with  most  things.  Chita, 
his  beautiful  mare,  was  the  apple  of  his  eye  and  always 
won  in  a  race.  If  there  was  a  purse  she  captured  it. 

A  week  afterward  he  had  Miss  Gamier  out  sleigh 
ing,  for  the  snow  was  not  all  gone.  The  handsomest 
couple  in  Chicago,  the  men  said,  and  the  women  pre 
dicted  it  would  be  a  match. 

Alas,  in  the  midst  of  gayeties  a  great  sorrow  fell 
over  the  nation.  The  hero  of  the  Indian  wars,  who  had 
borne  his  former  defeat  with  dignity,  and  his  elevation 
to  the  highest  office  the  nation  could  bestow,  was  sud 
denly  called  away  from  earthly  honors.  The  nation 
mourned  him  sincerely.  Mr.  Tyler,  the  Vice-Presi- 
dent,  succeeded  him,  according  to  the  Constitution. 

Perhaps  the  whole  country  emerged  from  a  period 
of  prostration.  Chicago,  certainly  did,  and  this  time 
not  to  fall  back  into  languor.  The  hogs  were  finally 
banished  from  the  street.  There  had  long  been  an 
estray  pen,  but  it  had  proved  no  terror  to  evil  doers. 
There  was  an  attempt  to  make  the  streets  passable,  and 
the  water  question  again  came  to  the  fore.  There  were 
some  artesian  wells,  and  some  good  water  quite  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town.  Court  House  Square  was  filled 
up  somewhat,  and  the  questions  of  raising  the  grade  of 


134         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

the  streets  was  discussed,  of  a  water  supply,  of  deepen 
ing  the  bed  of  the  river  at  its  outlet  and  removing  the 
sand  bar,  of  new  wharfs  and  docks  to  accommodate 
business.  The  papers  were  full  of  plans  and  schemes, 
and  the  completion  of  the  canal  was  again  strenuously 
advocated. 

Father  was  a  good  deal  interested  in  all  these  mat 
ters.  I  used  to  sit  and  listen  to  the  talk  and  imagine 
what  the  town  would  be  sometime,  but  no  dream  ever 
approached  the  marvellous  reality.  Occasionally  Dan 
would  stop.  He  and  father  were  interested  in  corn  and 
cattle.  He  had  developed  into  a  handsome  fellow,  but 
all  the  Haynes  were  good  looking. 

Quite  in  the  summer  word  came  to  M'liss  that  her 
husband  was  dead  up  in  Michigan.  As  he  had  never 
done  much  toward  taking  care  of  her,  even  child  as  I 
was,  he  did  not  seem  much  loss,  but  she  took  it  very 
hard,  and  straightway  endowed  him  with  numerous 
virtues,  and  bewailed  him  in  tones  of  anguish  that 
really  alarmed  me. 

"O,  M'liss,"  exclaimed  father,  "do  use  a  little  reason 
and  sense.  You  took  more  than  half  the  care  of  him 
when  he  was  home,  and  now  for  over  a  year  you  have 
not  had  a  penny  from  him.  You  can  support  yourself 
and  your  child  just  as  well  without  him  as  with  him. 
And  if  you  are  hankering  for  another  husband,  I'll 
hunt  up  two  or  three  likely  men  and  give  you  your 
pick." 

"It's  all  very  well  fer  you  to  talk,  Mr.  Gaynor,  but 
you  only  had  a  little  gal  to  bring  up,  an'  she's  been  the 
kind  that  doesn't  jump  over  bars  an'  get  outen  the 


WAS  EVER  LETTER  HALF  SO  DEAR?       135 

pasture.  But  boys  is  diffrunt  an'  mighty  high  headed. 
En  I'm  thinkin'  what  I'll  do  whenst  he  grows  up  an' 
needs  a  strong  hand — a  man's  hand.  Poor  fatherless 
lamb!" 

"He  seems  a  pretty  good  kind  now,"  and  father  gave 
a  dry  smile.  "Between  you  and  me,  M'liss,  I  guess 
we  can  manage  to  bring  him  up  and  have  him  trot  in 
single  harness.  You  can  have  a  good  home  here  as 
long  as  you  like,  so  I  wouldn't  worry." 

"But  I've  never  lost  a  husband  before,  an'  to  have 
him  snatched  outen  your  hand  without  a  momen's 
warnin',  as  one  may  say,  is  very  tryin'  to  nerves.  An' 
no  funeral  to  speak  of.  Mebbe  not  a  hymn  sung  over 
him.  Everybody's  sorrows  is  deepest." 

Father  took  his  hat  and  went  out.  M'liss  caught  up 
little  Joe,  who  kicked  and  scrambled  to  be  let  down  on 
the  floor  again. 

"Oh,  you  poor  lamb,  you  don't  know  what  you've 
lost.  You  can  never  have  a  nuther  father.  Fer  if  I 
should  marry  again,  which  the  Lord  forbid,  he'd  only 
be  a  stepfather  an'  like  as  not  be  ugly  to  you." 

Little  Joe  gave  an  expansive  smile,  showing  his 
eight  small  white  teeth,  and  pounded  his  mother's  knee 
with  his  fist. 

"I'll  clear  the  table,"  I  said,  thinking  to  leave  her  to 
enjoy  her  sorrow. 

"No,  you  needn't.  I  won't  defraud  any  one,  even  if 
I  am  bowed  down  with  grief.  I've  got  to  airn  my 
livin'  an'  my  child's  livin',  fer  trier's  no  one  to  depend 
on  now,  an'  I've  heard  say  he  who  goes  sorrowin'  fills 
the  pools  with  water,  er  somethin'  like  that.  No,  I'll 


136          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

wash  up.  But  I'd  feel  a  heap  better  ef  there'd  been  a 
funeral  en  a  farewell  to  the  remains.  An'  that  ther' 
great  big  cimitery  with  hardly  a  livin'  soul  in  it,  where 
he'd  be  doubly  welcome,  I  know." 

She  went  at  the  dishes,  and  presently  began  to  sing, 

"Why  should  we  mourn  departed  friends, 
Or  shake  at  death's  alarms?" 

That  seemed  to  be  her  favorite  for  days,  but  I  won 
dered  she  did  not  comfort  herself  with  the  remaining 
half  of  the  verse. 

I  think  father  felt  altogether  resigned  to  the  affliction 
of  Providence.  M'liss  was  a  good  cook  and  kept  the 
house  tidy.  Sometimes  he  thought  I  wasn't  learning 
enough  to  fit  me  to  manage  a  house,  but  there  were  so 
many  other  interests.  I  was  working  away  with  spirit 
at  the  French.  I  knew  a  good  many  words,  and  when 
Madame  Piaget  found  that  I  really  wanted  to  learn, 
she  gave  me  assistance  more  to  the  point  than  Sophie's 
desultory  training. 

It  was  a  delightful,  merry  summer.  Sophie  knew 
some  games  and  curious  stories  and  was  always  ready 
for  a  walk,  and  whether  I  had  not  noted  it  before  or 
whether  civilization  had  induced  it  to  compensate  for 
the  barrenness,  there  were  new  wild  flowers  springing 
up  here  and  there,  and  how  magnificent  the  prairies 
were  in  their  long  reaches  over  to  the  western  world, 
to  the  infinite  golden  distances  and  the  glittering  splen 
dors  of  the  sunset.  Then  when  the  long  spires  of  crim 
son  faded  into  lavender  and  pale  pink  and  blue, 
then  soft  grays  and  darkness  settled  about  the  edges, 


WAS  EVER  LETTER  HALF  SO  DEAR?       137 

coming  nearer  and  nearer,  like  some  weird  army  with 
a  soundless  step  until  one  fairly  shivered  with  a  weird 
terror,  and  one's  soul  was  entranced. 

Crops  were  excellent.  It  seemed  as  if  everything 
was  prosperous  and  people  were  full  of  stir  and  spirit 
and  hope.  We  girls  used  to  go  in  town,  as  we  called  it. 
There  were  some  stores  with  very  pretty  goods, 
and  the  two  quite  pretentious  drug  stores  with  red  and 
blue  jars.  I  told  Sophie  about  Rosamond,  and  we 
wondered  how  any  one  could  be  so  silly  as  to  make  a 
sacrifice  for  a  purple  jar. 

"I  just  wish  I  could  find  some  little  girls  willing 
to  buy  them.  Mother  makes  such  beautiful  dyes,"  de 
clared  Sophie. 

Madame  Piaget,  later  on,  made  quite  a  little  money 
by  dyeing  goods. 

Of  all  the  places,  I  liked  the  bookstore  best.  There 
were  various  articles  besides  books.  Cigars,  tobacco, 
papers  from  Black  Rock,  rather  from  the  cities  of  the 
east.  No  matter  if  the  news  was  a  month  old  if  we 
had  not  heard  it  before.  Father  was  very  fond  of 
reading  about  the  advances  Boston  was  making. 

"I  wish  we  had  a  greater  grasp  of  intelligence,"  he 
would  say.  Then  with  a  sigh — "But  one  must  have 
food  and  shelter  first,  and  a  town  like  this  is  going  to 
cost  a  mint  of  money  before  we  get  through.  Why, 
they're  talking  of  raising  the  whole  thing,  so  the  river 
and  the  lake  will  not  overflow.  Pity  it's  so  low,  and  no 
mountains  about  us  to  cast  into  the  sea,"  with  a 
chuckle.  "If  we  had  had  faith  to  move  'em,  we  might 
transport  some  from  Virginia  or  Tennessee,  or  we 


138        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

might  find  some  nearer  home,  up  Michigan  way,  or 
farther  west.  But  I'm  afraid  we  haven't  the  faith,  so 
we  must  go  at  the  work  with  good  courage." 

The  Chicago  River  was  not  very  wide  then,  but  it 
had  a  considerable  depth.  It  seemed  as  if  the  earth 
had  been  split  open  at  some  time  just  as  a  mighty 
plough  had  turned  a  furrow.  It  had  no  current  to 
speak  of  and  was  a  source  of  great  discomfort. 

It  was  true  Chicago  did  not  begin  intellectually. 
There  was  too  much  work  to  do,  and  all  honor  to  those 
who  evolved  a  great  city  out  of  a  trading  station  after 
years  of  work. 

But  we  did  take  note  of  what  was  going  on  outside. 
Dickens  was  attracting  attention,  and  Mr.  Harris  and 
his  sister  were  quite  enthusiastic  about  him  until  he 
had  visited  America  and  written  the  "Notes,"  showing 
up  a  certain  uncouthness  and  sharpness  in  national 
character  that  was  very  displeasing.  As  if  England 
had  reached  her  full  glory  in  a  few  years  instead  of 
centuries.  I  liked  Sir  Walter  Scott  best,  though 
Thackeray  was  much  talked  of.  I  was  fond  of  the 
illustrations — how  crude  we  thought  them  twenty 
years  afterward !  There  was  a  Mr.  Cooper  writing 
Indian  stories  and  novels  of  the  earlier  history  of  the 
country,  but  Boston  was  considered  a  kind  of  head 
centre.  And  though  there  were  such  stirring  episodes 
all  up  and  down  the  Mississippi  River,  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico  and  the  islands  below  that,  no  one  thought  of 
putting  them  in  print.  Madame  Piaget  knew  many 
stories  about  John  Lafitte,  who  had  once  been  such  a 
terror  and  defied  the  authorities  on  his  curious  uncon- 


WAS  EVER  LETTER  HALF  SO  DEAR?      139 

querable  island.  But  I  liked  to  hear  how  he  came  and 
offered  his  services  to  General  Jackson  when  New  Or 
leans  was  in  danger  by  the  British ;  and  I  used  to 
wonder  about  the  old  wonderful  Spanish  French  town, 
with  its  balconies  overhung  with  roses  that  bloomed 
all  the  year  round,  and  the  beautiful  women  sitting  on 
them  and  looking  down  at  the  passers-by,  the  streets 
full  of  bright  merriment  and  music. 

Chicago  had  begun  to  consider  a  regular  water 
supply.  The  water  carts  had  been  the  main  depend 
ence.  Now  at  Lake  Street  and  Michigan  Avenue 
plans  were  laid  for  a  great  reservoir.  An  iron  pipe 
was  to  run  out  in  the  lake  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  to  clear  water.  There  was  to  be  a  big  pump, 
worked  by  steam  engines  of  twenty-five  horsepower. 
Large  logs  were  bored  for  the  water  to  run  through. 
We  all  thought  it  wonderful  then,  and  throngs  of  peo 
ple  crowded  around  on  Sunday  to  view  the  progress, 
making  various  amusing  comments.  Ten  years  later 
the  work  was  renewed  on  what  was  considered  a  mag 
nificent  scale,  and  even  this  was  presently  outgrown. 

I  was  happy  and  busy  through  those  years  and  mak 
ing  friends  with  the  girls,  the  boys  as  well.  We  all 
played  together,  rambled  around,  went  to  each  other's, 
houses  and  spent  evenings  in  guessing  riddles,  telling 
stories  and  reciting  incidents  or  poems.  The  girls 
joined  in  ball  playing  and  running  races.  Polly  Mor 
rison  distanced  all  competitors,  even  the  boys.  I  used 
to  like  to  see  her.  She  never  "wriggled,"  nor  threw 
out  her  arms  like  sails,  but  seemed  to  cut  the  air  in  a 
straight  line.  It  was  like  the  flying  of  a  bird. 


140        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

There  was  no  end  of  guesses  that  summer,  I  think 
bets  as  well,  as  to  which  of  the  girls  would  capture 
Dan  Hayne.  Miss  Gamier  held  her  head  very  high. 
Peggy  was  daring  and  lawless.  She  had  no  end  of 
admirers  and  the  young  fellows  almost  fought  for  her. 
But  she  had  some  art  to  keep  them  from  coming  to 
blows.  They  always  had  a  good  time  where  she  was, 
and  a  dull  time  without  her. 

I  had  two  staunch  friends  that  I  dealt  around  to  the 
girls  I  liked  the  best — Homer  and  Ben  Hayne.  I  was 
too  young  to  think  of  lovers.  They  were  both  very 
good  to  me.  Homer  was  doing  finely  and  his  father 
was  proud  of  him.  Building  was  no  high  art  in  those 
days,  but  Homer  possessed  a  certain  attractive  ingenu 
ity.  He  could  make  a  closet  that  had  an  ornamental 
air.  He  could  put  up  a  shelf  and  tack  a  bit  of  mould 
ing  on  it  and  it  set  off  the  corner  or  the  vacant  space. 
He  made  an  ingenious  chair  held  by  strong  oak  pins, 
that  you  could  let  down  and  transform  into  a  bed.  He 
designed  such  dainty  mouldings  with  his  array  of 
beading  planes.  His  charm  was  that  he  finished  every 
thing  so  exquisitely. 

He  had  his  heart  set  on  making  money.  He  meant 
to  be  "well  to  do."  What  a  small  sum  then  seemed  to 
be  a  fortune.  Father  liked  him  very  much  and  often 
advised  him. 

Ben  had  less  originality  and  aim.  On  the  booky 
side  we  agreed  very  well,  but  he  had  not  the  breadth 
nor  quickness  of  Norman.  When  I  bade  him  pause  at 
some  delightful  thought  that  one  wanted  to  linger  over 
he  would  glance  up  with  a  smile  of  unreasoning  obe- 


WAS  EVER  LETTER  HALF  SO  DEAR?      141 

dience.  Everything  I  did  and  said  was  just  right.  He 
was  a  nice,  steady,  business  fellow,  but  Mr.  Harris  ad 
mitted  that  Norman  was  worth  two  of  him. 

Mrs.  Hayne  was  always  sweet  and  motherly  to  me, 
but  she  was  growing  stouter  and  less  energetic,  though 
she  kept  her  passion  for  cooking. 

"If  I  had  you  down  to  the  hotel !"  Clement  Ward 
used  to  say.  "Though  I  d'now,  you  cook  so  all  fired 
tasty  an'  temptin'  that  I  might  be  et  out  of  house  an' 
home  afore  I  knew  jest  what  was  the  matter.  There's 
no  one  in  fifty  mile  that  can  give  jest  the  fla voracity  to 
victuals  that  you  do.  When  I've  et  a  meal  here  the 
taste  stays  in  my  mouth  fer  days.  An  sech  pie  crust !" 

"Well,  I've  been  cooking  for  men  and  boys  all  my 
life,  afore  I  was  married  and  since.  An'  Dan  an'  his 
father  are  powerful  eaters.  So  'twould  be  a  poor  story 
if  I  couldn't  hit  it  jest  right." 

There  was  always  plenty  to  cook,  meat  and  game 
and  several  fine  kinds  of  fish. 

Then  the  day  when  the  mail  steamer  came  in  was 
beginning  to  be  one  of  expectation.  I  did  not  care  for 
the  ones  that  came  down  the  lake,  though  they  often 
brought  valuable  mail,  but  this  came  from  the  East. 
I  had  looked  for  a  letter  such  a  long  while,  it  seemed 
to  me,  and  early  as  I  was  the  long  line  appalled  me. 

"You're  John  Gaynor's  little  girl!"  said  a  friendly 
voice  as  I  was  peering  about.  "Come  here,  I'll  make 
a  little  room,  and  he  thrust  out  his  arm,  drawing  me 
into  the  line  just  before  him.  "Father  got  any  folks 
in  York  State?" 

"No,  but  a  letter  may  come  from  Canada.," 


1 42         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Whew!"  he  ejaculated.  "Let  me  see — G —  isn't 
it?" 

They  were  sorting  letters  in  the  small  room,  and  lay 
ing  the  piles  on  the  floor. 

"Denby,"  said  my  friend,  "and  John  Gaynor." 

"Here's  a  Gaynor,  but  it's  a  woman.  Oh,  yes,  care 
of  John,  twenty  cents  postage." 

You  could  not  always  pay  postage  through  and  no 
one  made  it  a  matter  of  compliment  in  those  days.  I 
had  a  quarter  and  some  pennies  beside. 

"Here,  I'll  make  change,"  he  said,  and  I  thanked 
him  most  sincerely.  He  smiled  and  nodded  as  I 
stepped  out  of  the  line  and  ran  swiftly  home.  Norman 
had  said  the  next  letter  would  be  all  to  myself. 

It  went  in  the  great  fire  with  hundreds  of  other 
choice  treasures,  but  oh,  what  a  delight  it  was  to  me ! 
I  had  looked  at  the  flag  token  in  the  morning,  so  I 
had  not  gone  to  school.  Joe  was  playing  about  the 
door  step,  emulating  the  old  monarch  by  eating  grass. 
M'liss  was  washing  out  under  the  apple-tree,  so  I 
slipped  into  the  room  and  threw  my  sunbonnet  on  the 
floor. 

There  were  no  envelopes,  no  dainty  sheets  of  paper. 
This  was  "foolscap,"  written  on  three  sides,  and  little 
spaces  rescued  on  the  fourth.  Ah!  what  a  delight  it 
was.  So  much  about  the  historic  old  city,  the  French 
residents,  the  English  officers,  the  government  and 
business,  the  picturesque  houses  with  their  pathetic 
stories.  Norman  could  talk  French  almost  like  a 
native.  And  the  business !  Chicago  would  be  amazed 
at  the  volume  of  it. 


WAS  EVER  LETTER  HALF  SO  DEAR?     143 

There  was  a  great  deal  about  Mr.  Le  Moyne,  his 
kindly  care,  "almost  as  if  I  was  a  son,"  was  the  eager 
confession.  The  journeys  they  were  taking  about,  the 
friends  Mr.  Le  Moyne  met,  the  charming  and  cultivated 
women,  who  played  the  piano  and  sang  in  the  most 
delightful  manner.  It  was  like  living  in  a  story  book. 
And  he  had  to  go  everywhere,  to  do  almost  everything 
for  Mr.  Le  Moyne,  whose  eyesight  was  poorer  than 
ever.  Presently  when  the  business  was  all  finished 
they  would  go  to  New  York.  And  then  he  hoped  to 
be  able  to  come  home.  It  seemed  almost  a  lifetime 
to  him. 

"You  are  such  a  dear,  sweet  letter  writer,"  he  said. 
"The  boys  only  send  messages  by  mother,  and  she 
hasn't  the  fashion  of  telling  me  all  the  little  things 
about  them  that  you  do.  You  picture  everything  so  that 
I  can  see  it.  Mr.  Harris  writes  about  business  and 
books,  and  what  the  American  and  what  the  Democrat 
says,  and  the  squabbles  of  the  city  government.  But 
I  like  to  go  down  to  the  very  heart  of  things,  to  know 
when  you  have  a  new  frock,  and  the  little  companies 
you  attended,  and  the  plays  and  the  walks,  and  the 
new  wild  flowers  you  have  found.  Is  there  any  place 
like  the  boyhood  home,  any  other  little  girl  like  you? 
Not  if  I  should  search  the  world  over. 

"I  have  been  reading  some  wonderful  plays  by 
Shakespeare.  Mr.  Harris  has  a  copy,  I  know.  Ask 
him  to  let  you  see  'Midsummer  Night's  Dream.'  We 
went  to  a  theatre  here  in  Quebec  and  saw  it  played. 
I  can't  tell  why,  but  I  thought  of  you  all  the  time.  'If 
she  were  here,  if  she  were  here,'  I  kept  saying  to  every 


H4         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

turn.  It  was  enchanting.  I  cannot  do  it  any  justice  in 
a  letter,  and  I  have  written  so  much  already.  Oh,  why 
can't  people  talk  through  space?  I  sometimes  send 
messages  on  the  wind — do  you  get  them,  dear  ?  Send 
me  back  some.  And — can  you  believe  at  Christmas 
or  thereabout  I  shall  see  you  ?  I  measure  six  feet  now, 
and  sometimes  I  think  I  begin  to  look  like  Dan,  only 
I  shall  never  be  as  handsome.  Tell  me  all  about  his 
girls.  It's  high  time  he  was  married." 

It  was  written  very  closely,  and  oh,  what  a  delight 
it  was !  I  sat  there  all  of  a  tremble  hugging  it  to  my 
heart.  Joe  was  hammering  on  the  steps  with  the  new 
potato  masher  that  Homer  had  made,  and  I  never  heard 
him.  M'liss  came  in  wringing  her  hands  as  if  she  was 
squeezing  the  suds  out  of  them. 

"Fer  the  land  sakes !  Haven't  you  done  a  bit  about 
dinner?  I  see  you  come  in,  an'  sez  I,  'She'll  peel  the 
'taters  sure/  an'  here  you're  sittin'  calm  as  if  dinners 
come  to  hand  already  cooked.  Ye  might  as  well  bin 
in  school,  then  I'd  a-knowed  jest  what  to  do." 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  said  penitently.  "But  I  had  such  a 
splendid  long  letter  from  Norman."  Then  I  jumped 
up  and  there  was  a  sound  like  a  pistol.  A  continual 
dripping  will  wear  away  a  stone  saith  the  adage — the 
steady  pounding  on  the  stone  had  split  my  masher. 

"Drat  that  young  un !"  M'liss  gave  him  two  or  three 
slaps,  and  the  roar  of  little  Joe  was  terrific. 

"Oh  don't!"  I  cried,  and  went  to  comfort  him. 

"You'll  jes'  spile  that  fatherless  child,  who'll  need  a 
man  to  govern  him  'fore  long,  he's  that  deestructive. 
You  goin'  to  peel  the  'taters  or  me?" 


WAS  EVER  LETTER  HALF  SO  DEAR?       145 

I  smiled  at  the  question,  but  went  for  the  potatoes, 
and  soon  had  them  over  the  fire. 

"Ther's  beans  to  heat  up,  an'  that  ther  huckleberry 
puddin'  to  steam  over.  People  can't  have  much  to  do 
whenst  they  write  letters  so  long  it  takes  a  whole 
mornin'  to  read  'em.  I've  got  the  clothes  to  hang  up." 

Joe  had  rolled  over  on  the  grass  and  was  trying  to 
catch  "hoppers,"  laughing  at  the  way  they  eluded  him. 
I  set  the  table,  brought  out  the  boiled  ham  and  sliced 
it,  and  when  father  came  in  everything  was  ready. 

He  was  intensely  interested  in  the  letter. 

"I  do  wonder  how  Chicago  will  look  to  him  after 
all  the  fine  cities  he's  seen.  I  sometimes  think  I  was 
a  fool  to  come  out  here.  Then  when  I  see  the  wheat 
standing  so  thick  with  great  golden  heads,  and  the  corn 
rushing  along  like  a  regiment,  and  the  pigs  fattening, 
and  the  hens  laying  eggs,  I  say  it's  about  as  good  a 
country  as  the  Lord  has  made  anywhere.  Only  if  he'd 
raised  the  ground  a  little  higher  just  around  'twould  a 
been  more  to  my  liking,  and  there  are  plenty  of 
mountains  that  could  have  spared  a  slice  off  of 
them." 

I  went  over  to  the  Haynes'  in  the  afternoon.  Mother 
Haynes's  letter  had  come  too.  She  was  beginning  to 
have  trouble  with  her  eyesight,  and  her  spectacles  didn't 
seem  to  fit  rightly.  So  she  was  glad  to  have  me  read 
it  aloud  to  her.  Mr.  Le  Moyne  had  raised  Norman's 
salary,  and  said  he  would  never  be  able  to  spare  him. 
And  Norman  was  very  happy,  only  he  did  want  to  see 
all  the  home  folks.  Did  father  keep  well,  and  was 
little  Chris  growing?  Why  didn't  some  of  the  boys 


146        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

write  to  him  ?  With  all  the  pleasure  and  the  business 
it  was  hard  to  be  away  from  everybody. 

"Harder  for  him  than  for  us,"  and  the  mother  sighed. 

I  read  her  my  letter  except  some  paragraphs  that 
had  a  kind  of  sacred  feeling  to  me,  though  there  was 
nothing  very  secret  in  them. 

And  if  we  could  see  him  by  Christmas ! 


CHAPTER  X 

A  WILD  RIDE 

IT  was  truly  a  gay  summer  for  the  grown-ups.  There 
were  rowing  parties  on  the  lake,  and  picnics  came 
quite  in  vogue.  Dan  Hayne  was  doing  a  little  of 
everything,  buying  and  selling  lots,  interested  in  lead, 
in  cattle,  taking  short  journeys  here  and  there  to  view 
coming  prospects.  Withal  he  found  time  for  girls, 
went  to  dances,  drove  them  out,  and  just  when 
some  one  thought  him  caught,  he  was  off  with  the  old 
fancy. 

Miss  Gamier  seemed  to  like  him  very  much,  or  was 
it  the  spirit  of  coquetry  ?  For  in  August  a  young  Ken- 
tuckian  of  one  of  the  first  families  suddenly  appeared 
on  the  scene,  and  then  it  was  said  they  had  been  lovers 
and  quarrelled,  and  now  made  up  again.  A  date  was 
set  for  a  speedy  marriage  in  St.  James'  Church,  to  the 
great  surprise  of  everybody. 

How  would  Dan  Hayne  take  it? 

He  took  it  with  a  jaunty  indifference,  and  not  only 
went  to  the  wedding,  but  led  the  procession  that  saw  the 
bride  start  on  her  journey  to  her  new  home. 


148         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"She  was  an  awful  flirt,"  declared  Polly  Morrison, 
"but  I  knew  he  didn't  mean  to  marry  her." 

Even  Polly  held  her  head  quite  high  in  those  days, 
and  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  parading  her  numerous 
admirers. 

The  school  girls  were  playing  under  a  group  of  -cot- 
tonwood  trees  one  afternoon,  when  Polly  and  two  or 
three  of  the  older  ones  paused  and  joined  the  merri 
ment.  Sophie  Piaget  was  telling  charms.  They 
should  have  gone  out  on  St.  John's  night  and  walked 
three  times  around  the  church.  On  the  way  home  you 
would  hear  a  name  called,  and  that  would  be  the 
name  of  your  future  husband.  Then  you  counted  nine 
stars  nine  nights  in  succession,  and  you  were  sure  to 
marry  the  first  man  you  shook  hands  with. 

"But  what  if  you  didn't  like  him,  or  if  he  was  mar 
ried,"  suggested  some  one. 

"Then  you  mustn't  shake  hands  with  him,"  laughed 
Polly.  "Save  your  shake  for  some  one  you  do  like." 

"Oh,  let's  go  out  and  get  Shubenca  to  tell  our  for 
tunes." 

They  all  rose  in  eagerness.  Shubenca  was  an  old 
Indian  woman  who  did  predict  remarkable  events,  and 
they  sometimes  came  true. 

It  was  not  far  to  the  tepee,  though  two  or  three  girls 
suggested  it  might  be  better  to  go  home  and  help  get 
supper. 

"Will  you  have  y,our  fortune  told?"  Several  of  the 
girls  were  hanging  on  Polly. 

"Yes,  first  of  all,  I've  a  silver  shilling  to  cross  her 
hand,  so  it's  sure  to  come  true." 


A  WILD   RIDE  149 

"Oh,  dear,  but  will  we  have  to  pay?"  exclaimed  a 
chorus  in  vexation  of  spirit. 

"I'll  make  her  tell  a  lot  for  the  shilling."  Polly  was 
in  high  spirits  and  a  generous  mood. 

We  found  Shubenca  sitting  by  the  side  of  the  tepee, 
thumbing  a  pack  of  cards.  She  gave  a  careless  nod 
and  went  on.  Polly  stated  the  purport  of  the  visit 
and  displayed  the  shilling.  The  black  eyes  snapped 
with  desire. 

"How  many?"  in  her  guttural  tone. 

"Let  me  see — Sophy  and  you,  Letty,  and  Caroline — 
well,  say  six." 

The  woman  shook  her  head.  "Too  little,  too  little," 
she  said  with  a  frown. 

"Oh,  very  well.  I  can  tell  the  fortunes  myself  for 
nothing,"  and  Polly  turned  with  a  toss  of  the  head. 

The  woman  caught  her  skirt. 

"Three,"  she  said — "three,"  in  an  eager  voice. 

"No,  six,"  in  a  decisive  tone. 

"Too  much  for  the  money." 

Polly  threw  it  from  hand  to  hand,  catching  it  in  a 
tempting  manner. 

"Well,  well,"  with  a  reluctant  grunt.  "You  first?" 
giving  her  a  piercing  glance. 

"Yes,  so  the  others  can  take  courage." 

She  looked  at  her  hand  and  nodded  curiously. 

"You  get  your  heart's  desire  after  a  long  while,"  she 
said  in  her  broken  English.  "You  want  it  very  much, 
but  you  go  past  it  and  then  sorrow.  A  fair  girl  picks 
up  what  you  have  thrown  away,  and  you  hate  her." 
How  the  eyes  gleamed!  It  made  me  shudder. 


ijo        A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

I  had  gone  past  the  old  woman  to  where  a  younger 
one  sat  doing  some  bead  work.  Little  ones  played 
about  in  their  noiseless  fashion.  I  caught  sentences  at 
intervals.  She  would  have  two  husbands  and  journeys, 
go  away  and  come  back,  and  meet  the  man  she  loved 
and  be  happy  with  him.  "He  throw  away  the  fair 
one  for  you — she  too  pale,  too  thin,  she  not  love 
enough." 

"Well,  so  that  I  get  him  at  last." 

"You  be  wild  for  very  joy." 

"Yes,  that  is  good.     That  is  what  I  like." 

Sophie  Piaget  came  next.  A  husband  of  course. 
First  she  thinks  she  cannot  have  him,  for  he  love 
another,  then  "it  is  not  love,  no,  no!"  shaking  her 
head. 

Some  one  came  galloping  over  the  stubble,  and  we 
all  knew  the  horse  and  rider.  He  reined  up  suddenly. 
Polly  nodded  indifferently. 

"You  promised  me  a  ride  on  Chita,"  began  Nannie 
Piaget,  patting  the  beautiful  creature,  who  tossed  her 
head  gayly. 

"Did  I  ?  Well,  now  is  a  good  time.  Can  you  jump 
up?  And  you  won't  squeal  for  fright?  If  you  do 
I  shall  let  you  drop." 

"Oh,  are  you  in  earnest?"  in  a  delighted  tone. 

"To  be  sure.     Now — step  on  my  foot  and  spring." 

That  was  successfully  achieved.  He  settled  her  in 
front  of  him,  put  one  arm  around  her,  and  off  they 
sped.  What  a  beautiful  sight  she  was,  and  her  rider 
sat  her  proudly.  They  appeared  smaller  and  smaller  as 
we  watched  them.  I  had  lost  interest  in  the  fortune 


A  WILD    RIDE  151 

telling.  Then  the  moving  speck  grew  larger,  and  they 
came  in  sight  again  until  Chita  trotted  up  to  the  throng 
with  what  seemed  a  laugh  in  her  eye. 

"Oh,  that's  splendid!  It's  like  going  on  the  wings 
of  the  wind." 

Surely  it  was.  I  had  watched  them  until  it  stirred 
every  pulse  within  me.  Chita  seemed  human  in  her 
enjoyment. 

Old  Shubenca's  inspiration  seemed  to  give  out, 
though  she  eyed  Polly  suspiciously.  The  last  two 
fortunes  might  have  pleased  little  girls.  They  were 
of  new  frocks  and  surprises,  and  a  great  pleasure  com 
ing  this  way,  and  some  one  who  cared  for  you,  listened 
to  with  girlish  giggles. 

Dan  set  down  Letty  Dole,  who  was  profuse  in  her 
expressions  of  delight.  I  don't  know  whether  I  looked 
wistful.  I  wanted  to  hug  Chita  and  she  turned  and 
put  her  nose  in  my  hand.  What  mystery  was  there  in 
her  eyes? 

"We  must  all  go  home,"  began  Polly,  peremptorily, 
turning  the  girls  in  a  kind  of  squad. 

"Here's  one  who  has  not  ridden  Chita,  nor  any  other 
creature,  I  think — this  little  Gaynor  girl." 

"It's  too  late,  Dan.  And  then  she's  such  a  timid 
little  thing.  No,  let  her  alone." 

"It's  time  she  had  some  courage  put  in  her  then," 
and  he  laughed  gayly. 

I  was  not  a  coward.  I  often  ran  over  the  wretched 
bridges  when  the  logs  tilted  so  that  you  were  in  danger 
of  falling  in.  And  I  really  was  not  afraid  of  ghosts 
nor  cows,  not  even  mice. 


152        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"No,  no.  Let  her  alone.  Come,  children.  Come, 
Ruth." 

Dan  Hayne  was  fond  of  having  his  own  way,  and 
crossing  other  people's  wills.  There  was  an  imperious 
note  in  Polly's  tone.  How  it  happened  in  an  instant  no 
one  perhaps  could  have  told.  I  turned,  Chita  backed 
a  step  or  two,  and  then  a  strong  arm  caught  me  just 
above  the  waist  line,  and  I  was  whirled  up  on  Chita's 
back  in  front  of  Dan. 

"Oh,  don't,  don't!"  I  cried. 

"Dan,  put  her  down !"  commanded  Polly. 

The  only  reply  was  a  gay  laugh  as  we  bounded  away. 
Dan  slackened  a  moment  and  settled  me,  holding  one 
arm  tight  about  me,  and  then  we  went  on  that  loping 
gait  that  seems  like  the  motion  of  long  swells.  It 
almost  took  my  breath  away. 

The  sun  had  set  in  vague  levels  of  dun,  purple  clouds, 
now  making  a  gradual  darkening  of  the  atmosphere, 
though  it  did  not  betoken  any  coming  storm.  All 
about  was  softened,  not  like  a  fog,  but  a  tenuous  veil. 
The  stubble  stretched  out  like  a  sea,  and  seemed  to 
light  the  path,  but  presently  we  came  to  the  coarse 
prairie  grass,  at  which  Chita  gave  a  snort  of  disdain. 
On  and  on  we  flew.  It  was  unlike  anything  in  my  nar 
row  experience.  I  had  no  thought,  no  care,  no  fear, 
it  was  exhilarating,  fascinating.  Were  we  riding  into 
the  night  and  the  unknown?  For  the  pale  yellow 
edges  of  the  level  bars  had  vanished,  it  was  all  smooth 
darkness  over  to  the  westward.  And  then  a  narrow 
golden  crescent  hung  out  in  the  sky.  All  the  east- 


A  WILD    RIDE  153 

ward  was  growing  bluer  with  the  suggestion  of  infinite 
space. 

It  was  afterward,  many  a  time,  that  I  recalled  this 
wild  ride,  the  weird  loneliness,  the  penetrating  silence 
in  which  one  feels  what  bated  breath  means. 

"So,  girlie,  so,"  said  a  soft  voice  that  recalled  Nor 
man,  and  Chita  slackened  her  pace,  came  to  a  stand 
still. 

"Are  you  afraid?"  He  almost  pressed  the  breath 
out  of  me. 

There  was  a  cry  of  some  wild  animal.  It  seemed 
to  smite  the  night  like  blows,  growing  fainter  at  the 
end,  but  I  shivered. 

Dan  drew  me  up  closer.  I  could  feel  his  heart  beat 
against  my  back. 

"No,  I  am  not  afraid."  Somehow  I  was  not  with 
him. 

"Well,  you  are  plucky,"  with  an  oath.  "And  you 
don't  even  want  to  scream?" 

"Why — no,"  yet  I  was  confused  and  bewildered. 

"Suppose  I  dropped  you  down  here  and  rode  off?" 

"But  you  wouldn't,"  I  returned  confidently. 

He  gave  me  still  a  tighter  squeeze.  "No,  I 
might  murder  the  man  I  hated  in  hot  blood,  but  I 
couldn't  be  cruel  to  a  kitten  if  it  was  entrusted  to  my 
care." 

"Oh,  Dan,  you  could  do  a  worse  thing  than  leave 
me  there  on  the  lonely  prairie  to  perish.  But  I  like  to 
think  that  you  did  not  dream  of  it  then." 

"Now,  Chita,  take  it  easy.  This  little  girl  isn't  any 
more  afraid  pf  the  dark  than  you," 


154         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Chita  gave  an  answering  whinny.  We  turned 
toward  the  east,  where  the  stars  were  faintly  stealing 
through  the  space  that  seemed  tintless  at  first  and  then 
grew  bluer.  How  curiously  timid  they  seemed,  how 
they  blossomed  out  in  amber  and  opal  and  chrysoprase. 
Afterward  I  came  to  know  their  names,  their  path  to 
the  summit  of  glory  and  their  decline,  to  wander  for 
years,  perhaps,  and  then  reign  again  in  new  effulgence. 

I  was  almost  sorry  to  come  back  to  sordid  civiliza 
tion,  crooked  streets  and  mean  houses  and  dark  ways. 
Taverns  and  hotels  hung  out  lights ;  the  rest  of  the 
town  was  buried  in  darkness.  Here  and  there  some  one 
had  raised  a  sidewalk ;  you  went  up  two  or  three  steps 
and  then  went  down  again.  But  there  was  often  a 
candle  burning  in  a  window. 

Father  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  path.  We  had 
a  front  fence  now  to  keep  out  strays,  though  we  could 
drive  them  to  the  pen. 

"I  began  to  think  you  were  never  coming  back. 
Nanny  Piaget  came  and  told  me.  Dan  Hayne,  you 
must  have  been  struck  in  a  new  spot,  gallivantin'  a  lot 
of  young  ones  round ;  and  you  so  choice  of  that  mare 
you  hardly  let  a  stray  hand  touch  her.  She's  splendid, 
but  my  advice  to  you  is  to  give  up  racing  and  all  that 
and  settle  down,  marry  and  have  young  ones  of  your 
own;  but  I'll  venture  a  five  months'  shoot  you  won't 
be  careering  round  prairies  half  the  night  with  them. 
Ruth,  ain't  you  going  to  light  and  let  Dan  go 
home?" 

I  held  out  my  arms  to  father.  Dan  bent  over  and 
kissed  me  on  the  mouth,  then  handed  me  down. 


A  WILD  RIDE  155 

"Gaynor,  I  think  you're  long  headed  buying  all 
prairie  land,"  he  said.  "It'll  be  a  fortune  for  the  Little 
Girl  some  day." 

"Meanwhile  it'll  raise  corn  and  feed  hogs,"  father 
said  with  a  chuckle.  "Ruth,  ain't  you  going  to  give  a 
word  of  thanks  for  your  safe  return  ?  Why  Dan  might 
have  broken  both  your  necks." 

"Dan  ain't  that  kind,"  laughed  the  young  fellow  in 
his  proud  strength.  "Good-night,  little  one.  John,  I 
wish  you'd  go  down  to  the  Wabash  with  me  and  look 
at  some  cattle — say,  in  about  ten  days." 

"I'll  see,"  returned  father. 

I  felt  stiff  and  strange,  as  if  I  must  walk  on  a  sort 
of  gallop  and  had  no  strength  to  do  it.  M'liss  was  all 
curiosity  and  insisted  that  we  must  have  gone  to  the 
end  of  the  world,  and  the  supper  was  cold  and  not  fit 
to  eat  because  she  had  "het  it  over  and  over." 

I  did  not  want  much  and  went  to  bed  very  soon.  I 
still  felt  bewitched. 

We  all  talked  of  our  rides  the  next  day  at 
school,  and  thought  Chita  the  most  splendid  horse  in 
Chicago. 

After  Sunday  School  Polly  Morrison  came  over 
with  a  curious  glitter  in  her  eyes  and  snatched  at  my 
hand. 

"That  was  a  pretty  caper  you  cut  up  with  Dan 
Hayne!"  she  said  in  a  sharp,  angry  tone.  "If  you 
begin  this  way  you'll  be  the  talk  of  the  town  in  a  year 
or  two." 

"I  didn't  want  to  go  at  first,"  I  answered  rather 
resentfully.  "But  then  it  was  splendid." 


156        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"My  advice  to  you  is  to  keep  out  of  Dan  Hayne's 
way.  Still,  you're  nothing  but  a  chit!  Set  your  cap 
for  Homer  or  Ben." 

"I  don't  want  to  set  it  for  anybody,"  I  returned, 
jerking  my  arm  away. 

One  confessed  to  liking  boys,  and  boys  and  girls 
played  together,  but  lovers  were  quite  different,  not  to 
be  expected  until  you  were  grown  up,  and  most  of  the 
courtships  were  very  pronounced  and  rather  brief.  It 
was  a  sort  of  settled  matter  that  Dan  and  Polly,  who 
were  unlike  the  average,  would  make  a  match  some 
day.  They  sparred,  and,  like  the  smaller  children, 
"made  up,"  danced,  went  out  riding — she  had  a  saddle 
horse — and  then  for  weeks  tossed  their  heads  loftily  at 
each  other.  He  went  off  down  the  Wabash  and  then 
to  Cahokia,  but  Polly  did  not  lack  for  attendants. 

How  busy  the  town  seemed.  Now  the  canal  started 
afresh.  Some  of  the  old  indebtedness  was  wiped  out. 
The  land  along  the  border  was  sold  in  plots,  and  men 
set  to  work  on  a  new  basis.  To  hear  them  talk,  it 
sounded  as  if  values  increased  daily. 

Sophie  Piaget  and  I  became  very  dear  friends.  I  am 
not  sure  but  I  ought  to  include  Homer.  If  he  came  to 
our  house  first  we  walked  down  to  the  Piagets;  if 
Sophie  came  up  we  spent  the  evening  in  some  simple 
games.  Neither  she  nor  Homer  cared  much  for  books. 
But  she  was  very  industrious  and  handy,  with  a  cer 
tain  French  ingenuity,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  call  it. 
She  and  her  mother  did  fine  dyeing  and  they  made 
Over  gowns,  or  indeed  concocted  new  ones.  Sophie 
could  tie  a  bow  to  perfection,  straighten  out  crumpled 


A  WILD    RIDE  157 

artificial  flowers,  and  give  them  a  touch  of  fresh  color 
that  made  them  blossom  anew.  She  really  had  the 
beautiful  side  of  an  artist  without  the  intellectuality. 
But  new  countries  have  little  demand  for  this.  The 
fine  arts  came  later. 

There  was  a  long  pleasant  fall.  Business  was  thriv 
ing.  Father  built  two  new  rooms  on  the  house.  We 
were  beginning  to  have  parlors,  though  the  old-fash 
ioned  keeping  room,  where  you  sit  and  work  and  talk 
to  your  friends,  the  spinning  wheel  in  one  corner,  the 
dresser  with  its  drawers  holding  table  linen,  the  shelves 
above  for  the  best  dishes,  the  commodious  settle 
and  the  Boston  rocker,  hold  a  charm  that  modern 
rooms  cannot  give,  for  they  had  the  heart  of  family 
life. 

The  winter  brought  great  changes  to  me,  set  my 
life  in  a  different  key,  the  octave  above  childhood,  girl 
hood,  before  the  woman  begins  to  unfold.  I  had  been 
undersized,  a  truly  little  girl.  Now  I  suddenly  shot  up 
like  a  sapling,  not  particularly  thin,  but  slim,  and  out 
grew  all  my  skirts.  I  felt  very,  very  sorry.  I  did  not 
want  to  be  grown  up. 

Sophie  was  delighted.  Nanette  kept  pace  with  me. 
So  did  Letty  Dole  and  Bessy  Hale.  We  were  not 
going  to  school.  Fourteen  was  considered  old  enough 
to  begin  the  real  work  of  life.  I  was  not  quite  that, 
but  the  house  seemed  to  demand  me.  For  M'liss,  with 
all  her  sorrow  of  widowhood,  had  consoled  herself  and 
was  to  give  her  boy  the  strong  hand  to  guide  him 
through  perilous  ways.  On  the  other  side,  she  was 
to  undertake  two  girls,  six  and  eight.  Mr.  Weaver  had 


158         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

a  farm  down  south  branch,  kept  cows  and  supplied 
people  with  milk. 

I  was  very  sorry  to  have  her  go.  I  had  grown  fond 
of  the  baby,  who  was  a  great  chatterbox  and  extremely 
funny  little  chap,  and  M'liss  was  an  excellent  cook, 
good  and  strong,  and  housework  was  hard  for  girls 
and  women  in  those  days. 

There  was  all  the  new  part  to  clean  and  set  to  rights. 
We  had  a  fine  whitewashed  wall  and  a  thick  soft  rag 
carpet.  My  chamber  opened  on  this  room  as  well  as 
father's.  Then  there  was  a  big  room  upstairs  that  we 
did  not  need  at  present. 

M'liss  was  married  in  the  morning  and  went  to  her 
new  home  at  once.  We  both  cried  at  the  parting,  for 
we  were  to  be  nearly  two  miles  apart. 

"I  don't  mind  anything  so  much  as  that,"  she  said. 
"If  I  could  run  in  every  day  or  two  and  cook  a  meal 
for  you.  I  don't  believe  that  old  Jolette  will  be  worth 
her  salt,  and  you've  studied  books  so  much  that  I  am 
afraid  your  poor  father'll  starve." 

Jolette  was  not  so  very  old,  perhaps  forty,  of  rather 
mixed  Indian  and  negro  extraction,  quite  tattooed  by  the 
Indians.  She  had  come  up  from  Vincennes  some  years 
before,  and  had  three  children,  who  were  bound  out 
in  various  families. 

"She'll  do  for  the  present,"  said  father.  "But  I'd 
like  to  have  some  nice  kind  of  white  woman  who  could 
be  motherly,  and  know  what  was  fitting  for  a  girl." 

Father  kept  a  boy  now,  a  rather  loutish  young  lad, 
just  the  kind  to  do  the  rough  work,  chop  wood  and  feed 
the  stock.  Andy  always  came  for  me  with  a  lantern 


A  WILD   RIDE  159 

if  I  was  out  in  the  evening  where  the  Hayne  boys 
could  not  see  me  home. 

All  the  fall  I  had  one  happy  thought  in  my  mind — 
Norman  would  be  home  when  the  winter  broke  up. 
They  had  gone  to  New  York,  and  were  to  visit  Wash 
ington.  Mr.  Le  Moyne  was  deeply  interested  in  some 
trade  relations  that  he  expected  to  lay  before  the 
governing  powers  at  Washington.  Norman  was  de 
lighted.  To  see  the  President  and  both  houses  of  Con 
gress  was  beyond  his  wildest  dream. 

There  was  quite  a  merry  making  at  Christmas. 
March  or  before,  Norman  had  said.  And  now  what 
with  railroads  coming  to  the  fore  and  stage  coaches, 
journeys  were  more  readily  made,  and  letters  reached 
one  oftener. 

Then  came  the  heart-breaking  tidings.  A  long  let 
ter  beginning  so  bravely.  New  York  had  proved  very 
interesting  with  its  landmarks  of  earlier  times  and  its 
peculiar  location.  Washington  had  still  many  signs  of 
newness.  It  had  not  grown  by  accretion,  but  been 
planned  at  once,  and  all  the  plans  had  not  been  exe 
cuted  as  yet.  But  the  capital  and  the  White  House 
were  superb.  And  the  great  squares  that  were  to  be 
embellished  in  the  future,  the  historic  points,  the  adorn 
ments  progressing  slowly,  the  Senate  Chamber  and 
House  of  Representatives,  and  the  great  men  of  that 
day  were  vividly  described. 

And  then  the  change  in  all  Norman's  plans,  the  part 
ing  for  years  instead  of  the  happy  meeting. 

Mr.  Le  Moyne  was  going  to  France,  charged  with 
some  quite  important  and  extensive  trade  matters  that 


160        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

he  understood  thoroughly,  and  that  might  lead  to 
advantageous  relations.  That  was  sort  of  sub  rosa 
not  to  be  generally  announced.  An  intelligent  secre 
tary  might  perhaps  do  the  work,  but  Mr.  Le  Moyne 
needed  more  than  this.  His  eyesight  was  failing  fast 
with  some  obscure  trouble  that  did  not  in  the  least 
affect  their  appearance.  He  had  written  to  an  eminent 
surgeon  at  Paris,  who  held  out  some  hope  of  help.  At 
New  York  the  leading  doctors  had  said  there  was  no 
possibility  of  arresting  total  blindness.  Mr.  Le  Moyne 
was  still  in  the  prime  of  middle  life,  and  this  verdict 
was  appalling. 

And  now  he  really  could  not  do  without  Norman. 
They  were  like  father  and  son.  He  was  an  excellent 
French  scholar,  and  had  also  taken  up  Latin.  He  read 
to  Mr.  Le  Moyne,  wrote  his  letters,  accompanied  him 
everywhere.  "I  watch  all  that  goes  on  as  well  as  read 
the  papers  daily,  and  am  really  eyes  to  him.  He  is 
sensitive  on  the  point  and  scarcely  acknowledges  his 
misfortune,  but  you  can  see  how  very  dependent  he 
must  be  on  some  one.  And  he  has  trained  me  to  his 
habits  and  methods.  He  has  the  loveliest  and  most  sin 
cere  nature,  his  friendship  is  the  greatest  boon  a  young 
fellow  can  have.  I  should  be  an  ingrate  to  leave  him 
now  when  he  has  pleaded  for  me  to  stay.  It  is  not  alto 
gether  for  the  advantages,  though  they  are  many,  but 
my  sympathies  go  out  to  him  in  the  strongest  manner. 
I  could  not  refuse,  although  I  longed  to  fly  back  to  you 
all.  And  it  is  the  uncertainty  that  pains  me  most. 
It  may  be  a  year — it  may  be — I  dare  not  think.  But 
he  likes  America,  and  expects  to  return  even  if  the 


A  WILD  RIDE  161 

worst  happens.  I  have  had  a  delightful  time — it  would 
take  weeks  to  recount  the  pleasures  and  satisfactions. 
If  I  could  only  see  you  for  an  hour.  Are  you  still  a 
little  girl?  I  cannot  think  of  you  as  being  large,  as 
ever  being  what  people  call  grown  up.  Oh,  keep  little 
until  I  come  back,  which  must  be  in  another  year  or 
two." 

I  could  not  talk  it  over  at  first.  I  was  glad  when 
father  came  in  that  he  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  go  to 
some  meeting,  where  they  were  considering  measures 
to  be  put  into  execution  for  the  benefit  of  the  city  as 
soon  as  spring  opened,  of  broadening  the  river  to  give 
it  a  better  current,  of  building  new  wharves  and 
bridges.  Improvement  seemed  to  be  the  watchword 
everywhere.  I  listened  with  a  thankful  heart.  I  was 
so  glad  not  to  have  him  ask  about  a  letter  as  he  had 
several  times  of  late.  So  I  brushed  his  coat  and  pulled 
his  stock  around  straight,  and  found  him  a  clean  hand 
kerchief.  Then  I  went  to  bed  with  my  sorrow,  telling 
Jolette  I  had  a  headache,  and  could  see  no  one.  Homer 
came  over — I  heard  his  voice. 

I  re-read  my  letter  the  next  morning.  It  was  dull 
and  gray,  with  now  and  then  little  spits  of  snow,  too 
cold  to  snow,  pedestrians  said  one  to  another.  Jolette's 
great  comfort  was  smoking  a  pipe  in  the  chimney  cor 
ner.  Sometimes  I  quite  longed  for  M'liss's  inconse 
quent  talk,  but  I  was  glad  to  be  alone  to-day. 

About  mid-afternoon  Mrs.  Hayne  came  over. 

"You  poor  child !"  she  cried.     "Are  you  ill  ?" 

The  tears  rushed  to  my  eyes. 

"Oh,  Ruth,   dear,   don't  take  it  so  hard.     I   was 


i6z        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

afeared  you  would.  The  people  who  go  away  are  always 
more  to  us  than  we  are  to  them  in  their  new  lives. 
But  this  is  such  a  splendid  thing  that  we  oughtn't 
grudge  him  the  chance.  It's  a  thousand  pities  for  Mr. 
Le  Moyne,  of  course,  and  dreadful  to  be  blind,  but  just 
think  of  all  the  advantages.  Seeing  the  President,  and 
actually  going  to  a  levee — did  he  tell  you  ? — and  wear 
ing  a  tail  coat — the  old  fashions  coming  round.  I 
wonder  if  they  have  brass  buttons!  My  gran'ther 
had.  Why,  I  never  s'posed  a  son  of  mine  would  be 
there  or  go  to  Paris !  And  you  can't  tell  but  what  one 
of  the  boys  will  be  President !" 

She  laughed  gayly  at  the  conceit. 

"Then  the  salary!  Of  course  people  are  making 
money  here,  but  seem's  to  me  property's  up  one  day 
and  down  the  next.  Chris  got  out  his  map,  and  we 
looked  up  Paris.  It's  hundreds  of  years  old,  but  my ! 
France  can't  begin  with  the  United  States,  though 
we're  not  half  settled.  And  it's  a  great  thing !  They'll 
go  to  England,  too,  and  he  will  see  kings  and  queens 
and  high  dukes.  Why,  I  think  it's  just  grand.  Only 
I  hope  he  won't  forget  us  all  or  get  up  to  such  a  degree 
he  will  never  want  to  come  back." 

"Oh,  he  can't  do  that !  He  can't  forget  us !"  I  cried 
with  a  rending  pang  at  my  heart. 

"Well,  not  exactly  that,  but  don't  you  see,  Ruth, 
that  his  life  is  going  to  be  altogether  different  from 
ours?  Of  course  you  can't  understand  how  a  mother 
feels.  She  is  glad  to  have  her  sons  prosper,  improve, 
even  if  it  does  take  them  away  from  her.  She  gets  old 
and  dies,  and  they  have  their  new  lives  to  live,  so  it  is 


A  WILD    RIDE  163 

all  right.  Betty  Collins's  son  married  a  girl  whose 
father  owned  miles  and  miles  of  live  oak  timber,  and 
they've  made  a  fortune  somewhere  in  the  Carolinas. 
She's  a  great  lady  and  wears  velvet  gowns  and  some 
kind  of  lace  that  was  forty  dollars  a  yard — think  of  it ! 
And  how  she'd  look  setting  foot  in  this  muddy  old 
Chicago.  It's  good  enough  for  us  who  live  here  right 
straight  along,  but  for  ladies !" 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed.  She  was  not 
at  all  dismayed,  rather  elated. 

Well,  it  was  a  fine  opportunity.  And  then  to  be  held 
in  such  high  esteem ! 

"How  are  you  getting  along  with  your  black  woman  ? 
And  your  new  rooms!  Husband's  talking  of  build 
ing,  our  house  is  old,  and  we're  crowded,  and  no  mis 
take.  I  do  wish  Dan  would  see  some  nice  girl  out 
there,"  nodding  her  head,  "and  marry  her.  Homer's 
counting  on  getting  married  when  he's  twenty-one, 
but  I  tell  him  to  get  his  cage  first.  Birds  are  easily 
captured.  Homer's  nice  and  steady,  and  he's  saving, 
too.  He  will  make  a  first-class  husband.  I  have  my 
eye  on  a  girl  for  Ben,"  and  her  smile  brought  a  warm 
color  to  my  cheek. 

"I  hear  your  father's  taking  great  interest  in  all  the 
goings  on.  They  talked  high  in  '37.  Why,  you'd 
think  the  earth  would  be  so  full  of  people  there'd 
hardly  be  standing  room,  and  there's  all  to  the  Missis 
sippi  River.  Not  but  what  the  town  wants  clearing  up 
bad,  but  we  don't  want  another  panic." 

She  had  been  knitting  as  she  talked.  I  liked  to  hear 
the  rattle  of  her  needles,  they  kept  such  exact  time. 


164         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Would  you  mind  reading  your  letter?  You're  do 
ing  nothing,  I  observe." 

I  went  in  the  other  room  and  laid  out  the  page  that 
had  the  most  tenderness  and  longing  in  it. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  subjoined  in  a  pause.  "It's  pretty 
much  the  same  as  mine,  only  those  things  about  books 
and  his  learning  Latin,  I  don't  sense  that,"  was  her 
comment. 

"  'Twould  be  awful  if  that  nice  man  should  go 
blind.  Then  I  s'pose  Norman  would  think  to  stay 
with  him  as  long  as  he  lived.  Well,  he  will  have  a 
good  time,  no  doubt,  and  we  mustn't  murmur  s'long  as 
he's  prosperous.  And  he  may  pick  up  some  nice  girl. 
Goodness  me!  Look  at  that  snow!  I  must  trot  off 
home.  Come  over,  we  miss  you  so  much.  And  don't 
feel  too  disappointed  about  Norman.  I'd  counted  on 
seeing  him  sure." 

She  put  up  her  knitting  and  bustled  about,  tied  her 
ears  up  with  her  woollen  hood,  and  set  off  cheerily. 
Yes,  we  were  in  for  a  storm,  the  flakes  were  like  a 
great  army  sweeping  over  the  land.  But  it  was  splen 
did!  There  was  no  wind  to  hurry  them,  they  could 
take  their  time  and  be  beautiful. 


CHAPTER    XI 

A  TIME  FOR  LOVE 

EVERYBODY  rejoiced  in  Norman  Hayne's  good  fortune. 
There  was  another  point  in  it  that  sent  a  pang  through 
my  heart.  Would  he  outgrow  and  forget? 

Another  friend  went  out  of  my  small  circle  in  the 
spring,  Mrs.  Chadwick.  Her  husband  had  established 
a  business  in  Buffalo,  and  they  moved  thither.  I  did 
not  realize  then  the  valuable  friend  I  had  lost.  I  was 
more  interested  in  the  young  girls'  good  time.  Homer 
Hayne  was  always  ready  to  escort  Sophie  and  myself 
to  the  little  parties  and  merrymakings.  Just  now  Dan 
had  one  of  his  periodic  fancies  for  Polly  Morrison,  and 
his  mother  was  much  troubled  about  it. 

"But  if  they  love  each  other?"  I  said.  It  really 
seemed  to  me  that  they  must,  and  now  I  had  begun  to 
speculate  a  little  on  this  mysterious  power. 

"Child,"  she  replied  almost  sternly,  "that  kind  of  off 
and  on  business  isn't  love  at  all,  and  the  great  question 
is  whether  they  can  spend  a  life  together,  and  take  up 
all  the  cares  and  perplexities  and  help  each  other  along, 
steady  them,  comfort  them,  tide  over  the  rough  places 


166         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

that  come  in  all  lives.  It  isn't  all  dancing  and  driving 
about  with  a  fast  horse  or  careerin'  over  the  prairies, 
racing  like  mad.  I  don't  believe  Polly  knows  how  to 
do  a  single  useful  thing.  Her  old  grandmother's 
always  been  one  of  the  high  and  mighty  ones,  and 
danced  with  two  or  three  of  the  Presidents.  Maybe 
they  were  big  people  in  Maryland,  and  she  gets  some 
money  twice  a  year  from  her  people  there.  They've 
just  got  that  house  and  garden.  Morrison  was  a  nice 
kind  of  man,  but  then  he  died,  and  Mis'  Morrison  just 
slaves  herself  to  death  taking  care  of  that  queer  old 
crittur  that  doesn't  look  like  any  sort  of  human  being 
now.  I  hope  to  goodness  I'll  never  live  to  look  like 
that,  as  if  the  crows  had  picked  me,  an'  eyes  like  two 
burnt  holes  in  a  blanket." 

Mrs.  Hayne  paused,  all  out  of  breath.  I  couldn't 
imagine  her  ever  looking  like  Granny  Verrinder.  Mrs. 
Morrison  did  not  resemble  her  mother  in  the  least, 
though  she  must  have  been  past  both  youth  and  beauty 
when  she  was  married.  How  they  had  come  to  drift 
to  this  place  might  have  puzzled  people  curious  about 
their  neighbors'  antecedents.  Polly  had  been  born 
here.  From  grandmother's  early  years  to  Mrs.  Morri 
son's  marriage  there  seemed  a  hiatus  about  which  they 
never  talked.  Mrs.  Morrison  was  a  meek,  quiet,  hard 
working  woman.  I  think  now  she  could  never  have 
known  what  to  do  with  Polly,  but  whatever  she  did 
granny  traversed.  She,  the  elder,  quarrelled  with  the 
girl,  and  yet  she  adored  her  and  brought  out  her  old 
finery  to  adorn  the  madcap  for  the  dances  and  merry 
makings.  But  Polly  held  her  head  as  high  in  her  blue 


A  TIME  FOR  LOVE  167 

homespun  gowns.  The  good  time  was  all  to  her  no 
matter  if  it  was  in  a  log  cabin  with  a  black  fiddler. 

"The  kind  of  wife  Dan  wants  is  a  good,  modest  girl 
of  strong  principles  who  can  keep  a  clean,  cheerful 
home  and  cook  well.  Poor  feeding  has  ruined  many 
a  man,  and  children  are  his  salvation.  I  hope  Dan's 
wife  will  have  a  houseful.  You  see,  a  man  begins  to 
think  about  the  future  when  there's  sons  to  grow  up. 
I've  always  wanted  one  girl,  but  Hayne  was  mighty 
fond  of  boys  and  that  sort  of  'leviated  things.  But 
I  do  hope  and  pray  that  with  all  their  wives  there'll 
be  one  I  can  take  to  my  heart  like  an  own  daughter." 

The  little  house  of  the  Morrisons  had  only  two 
rooms  and  a  lean-to  kitchen.  The  front  was  grand 
mother's,  and  had  a  carved  high-post  bedstead  with 
faded  silk  curtains  from  the  tester  poles.  There  was 
a  curious  chest  of  drawers  with  a  kind  of  cabinet  that 
had  glass  doors.  Behind  these  were  china  and  silver 
that  did  betoken  former  grandeur.  Granny  drank 
from  the  cups  and  took  her  sugar  out  of  the  silver 
bowl,  her  milk  from  the  silver  cream  jug.  In  pleasant 
weather  she  sat  out  of  doors  a  good  deal  in  a  great 
chair  stuffed  around  with  pillows.  It  had  rollers,  and 
when  the  street  was  passable  she  would  sometimes  be 
pushed  up  and  down  by  her  daughter,  who  was  a  ver 
itable  slave.  A  little  shrivelled  up  old  woman  with  a 
long  nose  and  a  sharp  chin,  but  her  still  fine  teeth 
would  always  keep  them  from  meeting.  She  wore  a 
cap  and  a  false  front  of  faded  black,  and  was  bundled 
up  in  shawls.  Her  stick  kept  away  curious  children. 
I  think  they  felt  there  was  something  uncanny  about 


1 68         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

her.  People  had  ceased  to  cultivate  them,  if  they  ever 
had,  but  Polly  was  welcome  for  her  fun  and  brightness. 

I  had  noticed  and  Mrs.  Chadwick  had  spoken  of  a 
great  improvement  in  the  town.  Education  had  really 
begun  to  educate.  Provincialisms,  elisions,  and  what 
father  had  called  outlandish  talking  was  falling  into 
disuse.  Of  course,  families  coming  from  different 
States  had  brought  in  accents,  pronunciations  and 
adages,  some  bright  and  to  the  point,  it  must  be  con 
fessed,  but  these  were  being  toned  down  and  refined. 
I  had  been  a  good  deal  amused  at  the  manner  in  which 
Ben  had  corrected  his  mother,  and  she  had  protested 
with  the  tart  rejoinder,  "that  her  talk  was  plenty  good 
enough  for  her,  and  she  didn't  expect  to  put  on  French 
airs  at  her  time  of  life,"  but  she  did  take  more  pains. 

Once  she  said,  "Dear  me!  We  shall  all  have  to 
spruce  up  when  Norme  comes  back  so  he  wont  be 
ashamed  of  us.  I  think  father'll  get  the  new  house 
also." 

"Norme!"  How  dear  the  old  boyish  nickname 
sounded. 

I  was  just  past  fifteen  when  the  real  things  began 
to  happen  to  me.  The  year  had  been  very  pleasant, 
and  I  rather  reluctantly  did  my  hair  up  high  and  wore 
a  bonnet  for  Sunday  best,  and  a  long  skirt — not  very 
long  either — what  they  would  have  been  like  trailing 
over  dust  and  mud!  Father  was  prospering,  raising 
wheat  and  pigs  and  corn  and  buying  up  a  bit  of  prop 
erty  or  acres  of  prairie  land.  Jolette  and  I  managed 
very  well.  Mrs.  Hayne  occasionally  suggested  that 
girls  of  fifteen  ought  to  be  able  to  keep  house,  but  now 


A  TIME  FOR  LOVE  169 

we  had  two  cows  and  a  great  flock  of  poultry.  Jolette 
made  fine  butter,  and  our  eggs  found  a  ready  sale. 
Even  at  that  time  we  sent  some  across  the  lake,  for 
now  vessels  were  coming  and  going  continually,  except 
in  extreme  weather. 

"I  was  married  when  I  was  sixteen  and  did  my 
washing  and  scrubbing  and  cooking.  But  such  hands 
as  those  don't  look  like  near  kin  to  a  washboard ;"  and 
she  caught  mine  in  hers  so  large  and  strong. 

They  were  slim  and  small.  We  had  not  begun  to 
cultivate  points  of  aristocracy  in  that  early  period,  or 
talk  of  claims  to  good  birth,  but  I  had  often  noted  that 
father's  hands  were  small  and  shapely  for  all  his  hard 
work,  though  I  am  not  sure  but  he  managed  to  get  the 
hardest  and  roughest  out  of  other  people. 

We  heard  at  intervals  from  Norman,  who  was  busy 
and  full  of  enjoyment.  Paris  was  wonderful.  The 
new  physician  had  at  first  given  Mr.  Le  Moyne  a  good 
deal  of  hope,  except  that  the  treatment  could  not  be 
rapid.  Then  had  intervened  a  really  serious  illness, 
and  during  this  time  the  optic  nerve  of  one  eye  had 
been  paralyzed.  After  that  a  winter  in  Spain,  which 
was  enchanting. 

"I  am  afraid  I  see  many  years  of  exile  before  me," 
Norman  wrote  in  my  letter.  "What  can  I  do  ?  Mr.  Le 
Moyne  is  the  most  delightful,  the  sincerest  and  cer 
tainly  the  most  generous  of  friends.  Through  his  con 
valescence  he  has  said  so  many  times,  'What  could  I 
do  without  you,  Norman,  when  I  have  no  son  or 
nephew  even?'  He  has  one  sister,  who  is  an  invalid 
from  a  broken  hip  and  partial  paralysis,  and  her 


170         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

daughter  is  a  fashionable  and  titled  lady.  He  is  very 
fond  of  travelling  and  enjoys  society,  but  now  he 
needs  some  one  continually.  I  know  he  fears  he  will 
be  blind,  and  he  wants  to  be  sure  of  a  permanent  stay 
and  solace.  Can  I  relinquish  some  of  the  best  hopes 
of  my  life — yet  I  feel  that  I  ought.  It  seems  as  if 
God  had  given  me  this  work  to  do,  that  it  was  not  of 
my  own  seeking,  and  I  must  trust  Him  to  make  it  right 
in  the  end.  It  is  very  hard,  but  must  I  not  go  on 
in  this  straight  path?  Pray  that  I  may  have  strength, 
little  girl.  If  I  could  not  see  it  so  clearly,  but  I  do, 
and  whatever  may  be  said,  remember  that  I  would 
rather  come  home  without  a  dollar  and  trust  for  a  wel 
come  than  remain  away  years  and  reap  a  fortune." 

But  I  thought  even  years,  five  or  seven,  would  not 
be  so  very  long. 

We  had  been  down  to  the  Piagets — Homer  and  I. 
Mrs.  Piaget  was  like  a  girl  in  her  merry  ways.  We 
had  some  guessing  of  proverbs  and  songs,  a  cup  of  tea 
and  cake,  both  very  plain,  but  with  the  fun  and  frolic 
most  enjoyable.  Just  as  we  were  saying  good-night 
we  crossed  hands,  Sophie,  Homer,  Luther  Chandler 
and  I. 

"Oh,  a  wedding,  a  wedding !"  cried  Nanette,  and  we 
all  blushed  and  laughed.  "Sophie  is  the  eldest,  it  is 
her  turn  first." 

Luther  was  very  sweet  on  Sophie,  but  I  thought  she 
did  not  care  much  for  him. 

Then  Homer  and  I  walked  home. 

"It's  late,  but  I'm  coming  in,"  he  exclaimed,  and  the 
resolution  in  his  voice  roused  me  curiously. 


A  TIME  FOR  LOVE  171 

Jolette  was  in  her  chimney  corner.  During  the  cold 
weather  she  rolled  herself  in  a  blanket  and  slept  on  the 
old  settle. 

"Ye'r  pop's  gone  to  bed,"  she  said  with  a  sort  of 
grunt. 

We  went  through  to  the  keeping  room.  She  had 
mended  the  fire,  and  it  was  now  blazing  cheerfully. 
Oddly  enough,  two  chairs  stood  invitingly  before  it, 
but  I  knew  father  did  not  like  company  staying  late. 
It  seemed  unsocial  not  to  ask  him  to  sit  down. 

"You  make  a  room  look  different  from  any  one  else, 
Ruth,"  he  said,  glancing  around.  "There  is  always  an 
air  about  it  as  if  one  really  lived  on  a  little  higher 
plane.  Who  would  think  of  placing  those  pine  boughs 
in  the  corner,  and  having  pictures  and  books  around, 
and  always  the  newspaper  and  little  knicknacks  and 
your  work  basket,  and  those  pine  cones  with  grass 
growing  in  them,"  as  his  eyes  wandered  around. 

"Was  that  what  you  came  in  to  say?"  I  asked 
saucily,  for  it  amused  me. 

"No,  it  wasn't."  He  looked  at  the  fire  a  moment, 
then  at  me.  I  had  both  hands  on  the  back  of  my  low 
sewing  chair. 

"Ruth,  will  you  marry  me  ?  Could  you  love  me  well 
enough  to  be  my  wife?" 

I  do  not  think  the  question  took  me  quite  by  surprise. 
Mrs.  Hayne  had  made  suggestions.  Father  had  in 
dulged  in  a  few  comments  such  as  "that  he  meant  to 
give  Homer  his  walking  papers — it  was  too  soon  for 
any  fellows  to  be  hanging  round."  But  we  had  been 
such  good  friends,  without  a  bit  of  sentiment,  as  if  a 


17*        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

girl  of  fifteen  could  understand  what  sentiment  truly 
was! 

"Oh,  Homer!"  My  voice  almost  failed  in  the  great 
tremble  of  every  nerve.  "Oh,  what  made  you  ask 
it?" 

"Because  I  wanted  to  know.  Surely,  Ruth,  you  will 
tell  me  the  truth,  the  whole  truth.  I've  always  been 
fond  of  you,  and  it  seems  as  if  Norme  left  you  to  us 
when  he  went  away.  You  were  only  a  little  girl,  and 
he  has  companied  so  much  with  high  and  mighty  folks 
that  I  suppose  he  will  be  miles  and  miles  above  anybody 
here.  But  mother's  heart  is  set  upon  you,  and  she's 
nagged  me  lately,  as  if  she  thought  I  wasn't — well,  for 
ward  enough.  We're  all  fond  of  you,  you  know.  If 
you  could — only  I'm  afraid — "  hesitatingly,  "that  you 
don't  love  me.  A  girl  always  shows  it  a  little.  We 
seem  just  good  friends — " 

"Oh,  that  is  all  we  are,  Homer!"  I  cried,  but  my 
face  was  scarlet  with  blushes,  and  my  heart  gave  a 
great  throb  of  thankfulness.  For  I  knew  by  some  sure 
insight,  girl  that  I  was,  that  he  had  no  best  of  all  love 
to  give  me. 

Then  he  reached  over  and  took  my  hand. 

"I  think  I  could  love  you  dearly,  and  oh,  little  Ruth, 
I'd  carry  you  in  my  arms  or  let  you  walk  over  me,  and 
spend  my  whole  life  thinking  how  I  could  make  you 
happy.  I'd  work  day  and  night  that  you  should  have 
the  things  you  enjoyed.  All  that  would  be  nothing  if 
you  did  not  love  me." 

"Yes,  yes,  you  understand.  And  so  let  us  keep 
friends.  I  think  there  is  some  one  who  could  love  you 


A  TIME  FOR  LOVE  173 

very  dearly,  who  would  be  glad  of  your  love,  and  you 
would  be  very  happy.  I  think  you  are  saved  for  that." 

He  turned  scarlet  first,  then  deadly  pale.  "Sophie," 
he  murmured  just  under  his  breath. 

"Yes,  it  is  Sophie.  Homer,  I  have  been  hoping  this 
long  while " 

"Mother  would  never  forgive  me  if  I  passed  you 
by,"  he  interrupted.  "You  see,  I  had  to  ask  you.  And 
if  you  had  said  yes  I  should  have  bent  every  energy 
toward  making  you  happy.  Yes,  I  would  have  done  it. 
But  you're  not  quite — not  like — " 

"Not  in  love,"  I  said  smilingly.  "That  makes  every 
thing  easy,  levels  all  inequalities,  I  have  read  some 
where.  Then  I  am  still  a  little  girl.  I  didn't  want 
to  be  grown  up.  I  don't  want  any  real  lovers  this  long, 
long  while.  And  I  shall  be  so  glad  for  Sophie.  She's 
seventeen  and  just  the  right  age,  and  so  dear,  and  sweet, 
and  wise,  and  such  a  splendid  housekeeper !  Oh,  you 
will  be  so  happy,  and  she  will  just  run  over  with  joy." 

"What  I  wanted  to  say,  though  I  do  not  know  as  I 
can  put  it  in  the  right  words,  is  that  you  are  not  quite 
like  other  girls.  You're  like  a  choice  china  cup,  while 
the  every-day  earthen  wouldn't  mind  the  dishwater  so 
much,  you  see,"  and  he  laughed.  "Ben  understands. 
He  said  it  wouldn't  be  fair,  that  you  ought  to  have  a 
gentleman  who  loved  books  and  cultivation,  and  all 
that.  And  though  I  hope  I'll  be  well-to-do  some  day, 
I  shouldn't  ever  care  for  the  fancy  things.  Still  I 
wouldn't  grudge  them  to  the  woman  I  loved.  And 
you  ought  to  have  the  best — which  isn't  always  money 
either." 


1/4        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

I  didn't  want  to  hear  about  myself,  though  I  knew 
then  there  was  a  great  gulf  between  Homer  and  me 
that  only  love  could  bridge  over.  Yet  I  did  love  him 
dearly  at  that  moment. 

"And  Sophie?"  I  interposed. 

"It's  queer,  isn't  it?  And  they  say  girls  are  always 
jealous  of  each  other.  Ruth,  you  are  the  sweetest 
little  thing  in  the  world.  If  Sophie  didn't  love  you,  I 
don't  know  as  I  could  ask  her.  And  I  shall  tell  her 
just  how  it  was.  Of  course,  mother — she  must  know, 
too,  that  I  asked  you.  I  like  everything  open  and 
above  board.  And  I  guess  the  sign  will  come  right — 
that  crossing  of  hands,"  smiling. 

"And  you'll  ask  her  soon  ?  I  want  her  to  be  happy." 
I  know  my  face  was  all  eagerness. 

"You  may  trust  me  for  that." 

The  clock  struck  eleven. 

"Ruth!"  exclaimed  a  peremptory  voice. 

"Yes,  sir."  Children  said  sir  and  ma'am  in  those 
days  long  after  they  were  grown  up. 

We  went  through  the  old  kitchen.  Jolette  was  snor 
ing,  but  covered  up  head  and  ears,  and  the  embers  cov 
ered  over  likewise.  I  let  Homer  out  and  fastened  the 
door.  Then  I  went  back  to  father.  He  was  leaning  on 
one  elbow,  his  head  tousled  and  his  eyes  almost  fierce, 
but  I  did  not  mind. 

"Was  that  Homer  Hayne  making  a  night  of  it?" 

"Yes,  father,"  and  I  couldn't  help  a  mirthful 
sound. 

"Did  he  ask  you  to  marry  him — the  truth,  child." 

"Yes,"  and  I  could  not  forbear  laughing.    "But  he 


A  TIME  FOR  LOVE  175 

is  in  love  with  Sophie  Piaget,  only  his  mother  wanted 
him  to — to — " 

Then  father  laughed  and  gave  me  a  hug. 

"Yes,  I  knew  that  was  in  the  air,  but  I  thought  I'd 
head  it  off.  Sophie!  Well,  she  will  make  just  the 
right  sort  of  wife  for  him.  Ruth,  chickabiddy,  you're 
too  young  to  get  tangled  up  in  such  things.  You're 
not  to  have  any  lovers  for  years  yet.  Do  you  hear  ?" 

"Oh,  father,  I  don't  want  any.  I  couldn't  be  any 
happier  if  I  had  a  dozen." 

"A  dozen !  I  hope  it  will  never  come  to  that.  Not 
even  one  in  ever  so  long.  There,  little  girl,  give  me  a 
good-night  kiss  and  go  to  bed." 

He  held  me  in  his  arms  for  some  seconds.  Perhaps 
it  wasn't  the  fashion  in  those  days,  but  people  were 
not  generally  effusive. 

It  rained  the  next  day.  I  spun  with  a  light  heart, 
looked  after  my  hens  and  then  knotted  some  fringe  for 
my  curtains  in  a  pretty  way  Sophie  had  taught  me. 
Father  read  the  paper  aloud.  There  was  an  Indian 
war  in  Florida  now,  and  some  important  political 
questions  discussed  in  a  rather  heated  manner. 

I  really  wanted  to  run  down  to  the  Piagets,  the  next 
morning,  but  I  resolutely  refused  myself.  It  was  clear 
and  cold.  Jolette  made  mince  pies.  Father  had 
brought  the  love  of  pie  from  his  native  State.  What 
an  appetizing  fragrance  they  diffused. 

About  mid  afternoon  I  caught  sight  of  Sophie  slip 
ping  about  the  frozen  path  full  of  hummocks,  but  she 
balanced  herself  with  a  fascinating  art.  I  ran  to  the 
door. 


1 76        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Oh,  I  wanted  to  see  you  so,  I  hoped  you  would 
come.  Of  course  you  know.  I  am  the  happiest  girl 
in  all  Chicago !  But  if  you  had  loved  him — and  often  I 
thought  he  loved  you,  and  I  stood  no  chance.  I 
wouldn't  let  mother  speak — that  is  the  French  fashion, 
you  know — I  was  so  afraid  he  might  be  affronted. 
Luther  had  asked  mother's  permission,  and  she 
thought  it  was  time  I  was  betrothed.  But  I  couldn't 
make  up  my  mind  to  that.  I've  been  gay  and  full  of 
fun,  but  sometimes  my  heart  ached  for  very  dread. 
Only  you  are  such  a  child!" 

"Why,  yes,  it  was  ridiculous." 

"But  Mrs.  Hayne  loves  you  so.  You'd  do  worlds 
better  for  Ben." 

"I  don't  want  to  do  for  anybody." 

"But  Ben  isn't  grown  up." 

"And  there's  Chris,  if  Ben  won't  have  me,"  I  said, 
with  a  sense  of  amusement  at  being  handed  down. 
"And  you  understand — Homer  asked  me  to  please  his 
mother.  Of  course  he  likes  me,  but  that  isn't  marrying 
love." 

"Yes,  you  are  going  to  be  the  dearest  little  sister  to 
us.  Oh,  I  do  wonder  if  Mrs.  Hayne  will  truly  like 
me?" 

"Yes,  she  will  when  she  comes  to  know  you  well. 
She  has  hoped  so  that  Dan  would  marry,  only  she 
didn't  want  Polly  Morrison." 

"And  now  they're  at  it  again.  This  time  everybody 
thinks  it  will  make  a  match.  I  don't  like  Dan.  He's 
the  great  Mogul,  and  he  flirts  awfully.  I  wouldn't  be 
his  wife  for  half  Chicago.  But  Homer  is  so  sweet  and 


A  TIME  FOR  LOVE  177 

patient  and  tender.  He  has  some  of  your  ways," 
smiling  generously,  "and  he  will  build  his  house  at 
once.  Oh,  won't  it  be  just  splendid !  I  shall  go  to 
work  immediately.  What  a  delight  it  must  be  to  make 
up  one's  trousseau.  I  have  yards  and  yards  of  lace 
knit,  and  fringe  made.  I  shall  not  sell  any  more.  Oh, 
Ruth,"  studying  me  intently,  "are  you  quite  sure  you 
are  happy  over  it?  For  you  could  have  taken  him — 
and  I  don't  see  how  you  escaped  loving  him." 

"Then  you  would  have  been  unhappy.  Now  we  are 
both  happy  and  content." 

I  came  to  know  afterward  that  there  were  women 
who  fancied  you  were  dying  for  their  particular  lover, 
and  it  vexed  me,  and  men  who  thought  your  world 
could  easily  have  been  bounded  by  them. 

I  made  Sophie  stay  to  supper.  Homer  was  not  com 
ing  that  evening.  He  wanted  to  explain  to  his  parents 
and  make  some  arrangements.  Father  wished  her  all 
good  fortune  and  teased  her  a  little,  admitting  that  she 
would  have  one  of  the  best  of  husbands. 

I  hesitated  to  make  my  weekly  visit  to  Mrs.  Hayne, 
and  the  day  I  set  it  stormed.  But  I  walked  over  with 
Ben  and  Chris  after  Sunday  School. 

"You  naughty  girl,"  Mrs.  Hayne  began.  "I  don't 
know  when  I  can  forgive  you.  I  suppose  you  were 
ashamed." 

"What  did  she  do?"  asked  Chris,  eager  eyed. 

"Oh,  she  knows.  There,  you  two  boys,  run  off.  I 
want  to  talk  to  her  and  I  don't  want  you  catching 
gabble  seed." 

They  went  reluctantly. 


178         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"I  hoped  he'd  wait  for  you,  he  would  have  been 
young  enough  then,  and  a  chit  like  you  don't  know  her 
mind,  though  many  a  girl  has  been  married  at  fifteen. 
Sophie  Piaget  is  a  nice  enough  girl,  industrious  and  all 
that,  but  he  might  have  looked  higher.  I  don't  quite 
like  the  French  of  it,  and  the  Catholic,  though  I'm  not 
bigoted.  I  never  supposed  you  were  helping  things 
along,  or  I'd  put  my  finger  in  the  pie  sooner." 

Had  I  helped  it  along  ?    I  had  a  guilty  feeling. 

"Father  wouldn't  hear  to  my  being  engaged  or  hav 
ing  a  real  lover,"  I  said  with  some  dignity.  "And — I 
don't  want  one,  I  don't  care  about  being  married." 

"You'll  sing  another  tune  presently.  Though  after 
all,"  in  a  softer  tone,  "there  is  plenty  of  time." 


CHAPTER  XII 

NOT    MERRY,   BUT   WEDDING  BELLS. 

MRS.  HAYNE  did  not  feel  comfortable  over  Homer's 
engagement.  It  was  a  full  fortnight  before  she  could 
make  a  formal  call  on  Mrs.  Piaget.  She  had  been  there 
on  errands,  and  Sophie  and  I  were  often  at  the  Haynes'. 
But  she  stopped  for  me  one  day,  "since  it  had  to  be 
done,"  she  said,  and  we  walked  down  together.  She 
was  not  at  her  best,  though  she  had  on  her  Sunday 
clothes.  Perhaps  she  would  have  felt  more  at  ease  in 
her  every-day  ones.  She  was  generally  so  cordial  and 
heartsome  that  I  noticed  and  felt  sorry  for  the  stiff 
ness. 

Of  course  she  said  some  pleasant  things — that  she 
knew  Sophie  would  make  a  good,  industrious  wife, 
and  that  was  what  young  men  needed.  She  had  no 
patience  with  flyaways,  and  girls  who  were  too  good  to 
work,  who  were  taking  up  the  new  ideas  that  you  must 
sit  in  the  parlor  and  play  on  the  piano,  and  have  lace 
undersleeves  dangling  about  your  wrists,  and  a  tail  to 
your  frock  to  sweep  up  the  dirt  everywhere.  Qothes, 
she  took  it,  were  made  for  use  and  comfort. 


i8o        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Women  were  wearing  very  full  skirts,  and  all  around 
the  back  they  "dipped"  and  had  to  be  held  up  in  the 
streets.  Sleeves  were  wide  and  flowing  with  lace  or 
fine  muslin  ruffles  inside.  Some  had  an  edge  of  needle 
work,  but  if  that  came  from  the  convents  in  Canada  it 
was  costly,  and  the  younger  girls  were  doing  it  for 
themselves.  They  took  their  work  along  when  they 
went  to  make  calls,  and  calls  then  were  an  hour 
or  so  long  between  friends,  and  you  "laid  off  your 
things." 

There  was  coming  to  be  quite  a  circle  of  what  was 
considered  afterward  "the  first  people,"  and  who  had 
streets  named  for  them.  There  were  the  Newberrys 
and  Owenses,  the  Hamiltons  and  Pecks  and  Roberts, 
the  Menards  and  Nobles,  and  Baubeins  and  Kinzies, 
who  seemed  the  fathers  of  the  town,  and  talked  of  the 
block  house  and  the  few  cabins  around  it,  the  attack 
on  the  fort,  and  the  Indian  skirmishes.  When  you  lis 
tened  to  them  Chicago  seemed  really  old. 

Then  there  was  only  one  set,  with  the  clergymen  hav 
ing  the  place  of  honor.  Now  there  were  several  cir 
cles,  not  strongly  defined,  and  living  in  amity,  but  each 
one  choosing  its  own  friends.  The  cream  went  out 
shopping  when  the  new  goods  came  in,  and  no  longer 
wore  homespun.  Their  sons  and  daughters  went  away 
for  the  finishing  touches  in  education. 

The  Haynes  were  then  in  what  we  should  call  the 
middle  class.  There  were  some  fine  French  people, 
but  they  seemed  a  little  colony  to  themselves,  as  well 
as  the  Germans.  I  liked  all  the  French  people  I  had 
met  very  much,  perhaps  I  was  drawn  to  them  by  the 


NOT  MERRY,  BUT  WEDDING   BELLS      181 

thought  of  Norman  in  Paris.  I  did  admire  their 
courtesy  and  a  certain  dainty  politeness  as  if  they  al 
ways  knew  just  the  right  thing  to  do,  and  did  it  gra 
ciously. 

Mrs.  Piaget  brought  out  her  best  cake  and  wine. 
She  had  some  fine  embroidered  napkins,  others  done  in 
exquisite  drawn  work,  and  her  glasses  were  clear  and 
fine,  letting  the  tint  of  the  wine  shine  through.  And 
the  cake  was  delicious.  She  always  flavored  it.  She 
had  the  art  of  making  flavors  and  scents,  and  their 
clothing  had  an  indescribable  fragrance. 

"Well,  well,"  Mrs.  Hayne  said,  when  we  had  left  the 
house,  "that's  done  with,  and  I've  been  dreading  it. 
Sophie  will  make  a  nice  wife,  I  dare  say,  but  I  think 
Homer  could  have  found  some  good  American  girl. 
There's  Kate  and  Annie  Noble.  They  always  ask  him 
to  their  gatherings,  and  Mr.  Noble  said  to  father  that 
he  was  a  smart,  level-headed  fellow,  and  would  make 
his  mark.  I've  been  counting  on  my  boys  marrying, 
and  I've  wanted  some  one  I  could  company  with  and 
feel  to  like  as  an  own  daughter." 

"But  Sophie  is  very  sweet  and  affectionate,"  I  ven 
tured. 

"She's  French.  The  old  saying  is  that  'blood's 
thicker  'n  water.'  And  she'll  have  her  ways,  and  her 
friends,  and  they'll  jabber  that  everlasting  tongue  that 
you  can't  make  head  nor  tail  of  until  you  wish  there 
hadn't  been  any  Tower  of  Babel,  and  everybody  had 
gone  on  talking  the  same  language." 

I  laughed  at  that.  How  queer  it  must  have  seemed 
when  no  one  understood  any  one  else! 


1 82        A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"And  I  s'pose  Norman  will  come  home  with  some 
fine  French  body  who  can't  comb  her  hair  nor  put  on 
her  stockings  nor  shoes,  and  must  have  a  maid,  as  old 
Granny  Verrinder  talks  about.  What  better  off  is  she 
for  all  the  fuss !  Granny  Pettingill  is  eighty,  and  she 
can  spin  on  the  big  wheel,  and  knit  and  sew,  and  is 
worth  a  dozen  of  that  other  old  thing,  that's  wearing  out 
her  daughter's  life.  I  don't  know  what  you'd  do  with 
a  dozen.  I'd  bundle  'em  up  in  a  bag  an'  drop  'em  in 
the  lake." 

Mother  Hayne  was  forgetting  Ben's  training,  and 
dropping  back  into  her  elisions,  which  showed  that  she 
was  rather  short  in  the  temper. 

I  was  truly  sorry  about  it  all.  Yet  I  could  not  wish 
it  different.  And  when  Sophie  ran  over  in  the  edge 
of  the  evening  I  tried  to  comfort  her. 

"She  doesn't  like  me,  I  can  see  that,"  she  said  with  a 
catch  in  her  breath  that  was  like  a  sob.  "And  I  feel 
so  sorry  for  Homer.  He  has  counted  on  our  all  being 
so  happy  together,  and  I  would  try  to  be  like  a  true 
daughter,  only  she  is  so  stiff  I  shall  always  feel  afraid." 

"I  think  she  will  get  over  it.  She  has  such  a  good 
warm  heart.  I'm  quite  sure  it  will  get  settled  by  the 
time  you  are  ready  to  be  married,"  I  said  hopefully.  I 
couldn't  imagine  Mrs.  Hayne  holding  out. 

"We're  going  to  have  a  betrothal  party.  Mother 
was  waiting  for  her  call  to  settle  that,  and  Mr.  Hayne 
has  given  Homer  a  lot.  It's  almost  out  on  the  prairie, 
but  if  the  Wrights  don't  mind  living  there  we  oughtn't. 
We've  been  planning  it — he's  going  to  build  two  rooms 
quite  to  the  middle  of  the  lot,  and  when  he  gets  fore- 


NOT  MERRY,  BUT  WEDDING   BELLS      183 

handed,  as  you  Americans  say,  he  will  put  up  a  nice 
front." 

Father  thought  that  an  excellent  idea.  Homer  came 
and  talked  it  over  with  him,  and  I  think  he  was  much 
pleased. 

Then  there  was  the  betrothal  party.  They  had  a 
new  priest  now  at  St.  Mary's — Father  Fischer,  and  he 
was  very  gracious  and  kindly.  The  ceremony  seemed 
as  solemn  as  a  marriage  to  me.  But  it  was  true  that 
most  of  the  guests  were  French.  I  was  beginning  to 
talk  quite  well,  and  felt  really  at  home  among  them. 

"I  don't  know  what  we  should  do  without  you," 
Homer  said,  squeezing  my  hand.  "You  must  coax  up 
mother,  and  we  will  try  to  do  our  best.  Sophie's  the 
one  girl  in  the  world  to  me,  and  yet  I  love  you  just  the 
same.  But  the  sweetest  of  all  is  having  the  girl  glad 
to  come  to  you." 

After  Pere  Fischer  had  given  them  a  second  blessing 
and  gone,  with  some  of  the  elders,  old  Billy  Griffin 
came  in  with  his  violin,  and  we  had  some  dancing,  with 
plenty  of  cake  and  a  kind  of  cordial  made  out  of  spiced 
fruits,  that  was  quite  harmless. 

Dan  had  come  in  and  seemed  a  good  deal  interested. 
I  danced  with  him,  but  Sophie  said  it  was  long  and 
short  division.  I  was  still  growing  and  almost  as  tall 
as  Sophie. 

After  that  we  began  to  plan  for  the  wedding  outfit. 
The  night  of  her  betrothal  Mrs.  Piaget  had  given 
Sophie  her  string  of  gold  beads.  She  had  one  of  not 
very  choice  pearls,  but  pretty,  I  thought,  which  would 
be  Nanette's,  six  of  her  silver  teaspoons,  three  table- 


184        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

spoons  with  the  mark  of  a  Paris  silversmith  on  them, 
and  some  quaint  china  dishes,  as  well  as  a  fine  pewter 
basin.  Then  there  was  a  cream  silk  gown  with  dainty 
flowers  sprinkled  over  it,  some  of  her  mother's  youth 
ful  finery,  that  would  be  made  over  into  the  wedding 
gown. 

As  for  sheets  and  blankets  and  table  linen,  they  were 
to  be  evolved  somehow,  and  pretty  underwear,  so  dear 
to  a  girl's  heart.  There  was  still  a  scarcity  of  money 
about,  and  so  one  had  to  exercise  one's  wits. 

The  town  was  thrown  into  quite  a  ferment  that  en 
tirely  eclipsed  our  simple  engagement.  A  Frenchman, 
one  Pierre  Maseurier,  had  been  up  to  Chicago  some 
weeks.  He  was  much  interested  in  the  canal  and  trade 
generally,  and  had  a  large  place  at  Vincennes,  as  well 
as  some  sugar  interests  in  Lousiana.  Small,  old,  but 
sharp  and  eager,  as  if  he  were  just  beginning  life,  in 
stead  of  having  it  more  than  half  spent.  What  brought 
him  into  contact  with  Granny  Verrinder  no  one  could 
explain,  but  he  was  quite  a  frequent  caller.  Suddenly 
the  little  town  was  astonished  at  another  betrothal. 
Whether  Polly  Morrison  had  captured  him,  a  widower 
of  long  standing,  with  two  married  sons,  or  whether 
he  had  tempted  her  with  the  brilliant  prospect,  no  one 
could  tell.  She  curtly  dismissed  her  old  admirers, 
there  was  an  elaborate  wedding  gown  sent  for,  and 
Polly,  dressed  in  sumptuous  furs  and  covered  with  a 
white  wolf  robe,  was  driven  about  as  if  she  were  a 
queen. 

Two  days  after  a  night's  debauch,  Dan  Hayne  left 
for  Buffalo.  He  knocked  down  a  friend  who  offered 


NOT  MERRY,  BUT  WEDDING  BELLS       185 

him  a  teasing  condolence,  but  vouchsafed  no  explana 
tion  to  any  one.  Then  there  was  a  wedding  at  St. 
Mary's,  with  a  nuptial  mass  and  all  the  accessories  of 
state.  Bishop  Quartier  came  up  to  marry  them,  and 
the  lovely  Saint  Pailais,  who  was  afterward  Bishop  of 
Vincennes.  It  was  a  grand  affair,  and  it -seemed  as  if 
the  whole  town  turned  out.  Polly  looked  as  handsome 
as  if  she  had  just  stepped  out  of  a  picture,  and  most 
people  wondered  afterward,  for  she  had  never  been 
considered  a  beauty. 

Mrs.  Hayne  felt  so  much  relieved  that  she  began  to 
take  a  warmer  interest  in  Sophie  and  the  new  house. 
There  were  other  mothers  who  gave  thanks,  no  doubt, 
for  wild,  wilful  Polly  had  been  a  terror  to  them. 
First  it  was  one  lover  sighing  at  her  feet  and  then 
another.  She  certainly  did  delight  in  using  her  wiles 
on  other  girls'  lovers,  not  that  she  wanted  the  admirers 
either,  but  just  to  try  her  power.  There  was  only  one 
man  who  won  her  heart  as  I  came  to  know  afterward, 
but  money  and  position  outweighed  love. 

Of  course  she  had  taken  M.  Maseurier  for  the 
luxury  he  could  give  her.  No  girl  of  eighteen  would  be 
likely  to  marry  a  wizened-up  old  man  past  sixty  if  he 
were  poor.  Everybody  settled  to  that. 

About  six  weeks  afterward  Granny  Verrinder  died 
very  suddenly,  though  she  was  past  ninety-six.  She 
had  been  taken  to  her  granddaughter's  marriage,  lifted 
in  and  out  of  a  coach,  and  so  bundled  up  that  no  one 
saw  much  of  her  except  two  staring  black  eyes.  It  was 
supposed  Mrs.  Morrison  would  rejoin  her  daughter, 
but  whether  granny  had  more  money  than  any  one 


1 86        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

thought,  or  that  the  wealthy  son-in-law  had  made  pro 
vision  for  her,  no  one  was  quite  certain.  She  repaired 
and  renovated  her  house,  built  on  another  room,  dis 
tributed  the  furniture  around  more  comfortably,  took 
in  an  old  negro  woman,  and  though  she  did  not  enlarge 
the  borders  of  her  friendship,  she  came  to  look  less 
careworn,  went  to  church  occasionally,  and  perhaps 
found  a  little  happiness.  At  least,  she  was  exempt 
from  care. 

We  heard  that  Polly  was  living  in  great  style  and 
had  everything  heart  could  wish. 

Dan  came  back  three  or  four  weeks  afterward  and 
went  about  his  business  as  if  nothing  had  happened, 
held  up  his  head  and  was  in  no  wise  broken  hearted. 
Indeed,  I  thought  him  improved.  He  took  a  real 
interest  in  Homer's  house,  advanced  him  some  money, 
so  that  he  could  meet  bills  promptly,  and  was  pleasant 
and  brotherly  to  Sophie,  who  had  always  felt  a  little 
afraid  of  him. 

It  was  a  very  delightful  spring  and  early  summer  to 
me.  Father  was  prosperous  and  jolly,  and  we  were  so 
interested  in  completing  the  trousseau  and  house  equip 
ment.  When  one  goes  out  and  orders  a  long  list,  has 
them  sent  home  and  put  in  their  places,  one  misses  the 
delight  and  interest  of  real  home-making. 

Then  the  wedding  day  was  set.  It  would  be  in  the 
church,  of  course,  and  that  did  fret  Mrs.  Hayne.  There 
was  no  great  fuss  about  mixed  marriages  then,  though 
good  Pere  Fischer  hoped  in  his  pleasant  manner  that 
sometime  Homer  would  be  numbered  among  those  of 
the  true  faith. 


NOT  MERRY,   BUT  WEDDING  BELLS      187 

Nanette  and  I  were  bridesmaids.  I  had  a  sheer 
white  muslin  frock  and  a  wide  white  satin  sash  that 
came  down  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  skirt.  There 
were  no  picture  hats,  but  we  each  wore  a  wreath,  and 
Sophie  her  mother's  wedding  veil,  that  then  was  folded 
up  and  laid  away  in  a  box  for  Nanette,  who  was  free 
to  have  lovers  now. 

The  wedding  was  at  noon,  and  Mrs.  Hayne  gave  a 
generous  dinner,  tables  being  set  in  both  rooms. 
Sophie  made  a  sweet  and  blushing  bride,  Homer  was 
fine  and  manly.  Dan  made  the  speech  of  the  occasion, 
and  everybody  drank  to  the  health  of  the  bride 
and  groom  and  wished  them  children  and  grand 
children. 

About  mid-afternoon  the  procession  started  for 
home.  Dan  took  Nanette,  Ben  and  me  in  his  two-seat 
wagon.  There  was  to  be  an  evening  company,  an 
"infair,"  as  it  was  called,  in  the  new  house.  The  bed 
stead  and  bedding  had  been  stored  in  the  shed,  the  two 
rooms  were  decorated  with  vines  and  flowers  and 
hanging  candlesticks  and  lamps,  so  that  in  the  evening 
the  lights  would  be  in  no  one's  way. 

Randolph  Street  was  a  lane  then  with  but  few 
houses,  and  out  beyond  stretched  the  prairie  that  was 
to  be  a  compact  city  long  before  the  century  ended. 

"Oh,  I  do  hope  you  won't  be  lonesome  way  out 
here,"  I  said  to  Sophie. 

"Why,  I  shall  have  Homer,  you  know,"  opening  her 
eyes  wide  as  if  she  thought  my  wish  inconsequent. 

"But  not  in  the  daytime." 

"Then  I  shall  be  busy  about  my  work." 


1 88        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Why  I  thought  we  had  done  sewing  enough  to 
last  seven  years,"  I  said  gayly. 

"Well — there  will  be  cooking  for  a  hungry  man,  and 
I  don't  mean  that  Homer  shall  wish  for  his  mother 
when  meal  time  comes.  And  Mr.  Hayne  thinks  it  will 
be  a  good  thing  for  Homer  to  bring  his  shop  over  here. 
Chicago  is  building  up  so  fast,  and  it  will  have  to  stretch 
out  every  way.  Then  a  good  deal  of  the  time  he  will 
be  home  to  dinner.  You  and  Nan  and  the  girls  will 
visit  me — oh  no,  I  shall  not  be  lonesome." 

She  was  so  happy.  And  though  it  had  not  the  bright 
est  beginning,  Mother  Hayne  came  to  take  great  com 
fort  in  her  daughter. 

We  had  a  merry  time  with  some  new  plays  and 
dancing.  Mr.  Hayne  took  several  of  the  older  people 
home,  then  his  wife,  Nanette  and  myself. 

"Well,  they've  had  a  very  nice  time  and  started  fair, 
and  they'll  get  along  all  right,"  said  the  satisfied 
motherly  voice. 

"Homer  has  a  long  head.  I  shan't  have  made  a  for 
tune,  but  I  look  for  my  sons  to  be  some  of  the  rich  men 
of  Chicago.  Dan  knows  how  to  make  money,  and 
if  he  learns  how  to  keep  it,  he'll  be  all  right.  I  dare  say 
that  blind  Frenchman  will  do  well  by  Norman,  and 
Ben's  steady  going.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Chris  turned 
parson,"  and  he  laughed. 

"Dan's  like  his  old  self,"  returned  Mrs.  Hayne.  "I 
don't  know  when  I've  set  so  much  store  by  him  as 
I  have  this  last  week.  That  girl  was  a  sort  of  a  witch, 
I  do  believe,  and  she  just  upset  every  man  that  she  set 
her  eyes  on.  There's  'Lias  Gordon  gone  to  the  dogs, 


NOT  MERRY,  BUT  WEDDING    BELLS       189 

hasn't  drawn  a  sober  breath  since  her  wedding  day. 
'Twas  said  she  promised  to  marry  him,  but  I  don't  be 
lieve  that.  She  was  looking  for  the  best  chance.  And 
I  don't  just  see  how  all  this  good  luck  came  to  her. 
But  she'll  have  to  carry  herself  mighty  straight,  or  that 
old  fellow  will  beat  her,  you  could  see  it  in  his  eye,  and 
'twould  serve  her  just  right.  I  give  thanks,  like  good 
old  David,  seven  times  a  day  that  she's  out  of  Dan's 
way." 

I  missed  Sophie  and  the  excitement,  though  some 
new  girl  friends  came  in,  and  Ben  was  my  devoted 
cavalier.  But  one  night  he  surprised  me  by  a  very 
naive  confession.  Were  the  Haynes,  little  and  big, 
bound  to  own  me? 

He  had  been  descanting  on  Homer's  happiness,  which 
was  ideal,  of  course. 

"The  right  thing  for  a  man  to  do  is  to  get  married 
when  he  reaches  a  certain  place,"  began  Ben  gravely. 
"And  I've  some  plans — I'm  going  in  Hamilton's  real 
estate  and  law  office.  They  want  a  clerk.  There  isn't 
any  more  money  in  it,  but  I'm  going  to  study  law. 
I've  been  thinking  of  it  this  good  while.  I've  listened 
to  the  men  talking  politics,  and  I'm  awfully  interested 
in  that  smart  Stephen  A.  Douglas.  Ruth,  this  is  going 
to  be  a  great  country,  and  it  will  need  more  and  more 
people  to  govern  it.  A  State  can  have  only  two  sena 
tors,  but  as  her  population  increases  she  has 
more  representatives,  and  that  takes  a  man  to  Wash 
ington.  Then  there  are  judges  and  governors  of 
States." 

"And  Presidents,"  I  laughed. 


1 9o        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Only  one  every  four  years.  Seems  to  me  they  tie 
his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  then  grumble  because 
he  doesn't  pull  up  every  weed.  He  doesn't  have  so 
much  power,  after  all.  But  I'd  like  to  be  in  public  life 
somewhere,  to  work  on  the  souls  or  beliefs  of  men.  It's 
a  grand  thing !" 

"Oh,  Ben!"  I  was  amazed.  Quiet,  apparently  con 
tented  Ben! 

"Yes,  I'm  going  to  set  out  for  that.  If  you  don't 
put  up  a  mark  you  can't  help  shooting  at  random. 
Of  course  it  will  take  a  long  while  and  hard  study,  but 
one  reason  why  I  like  you  so  much  is  that  you're  fond 
of  books,  and  have  more  real  sense  than  most  girls. 
And,  Ruth,  you  could  be  a  perfect  lady.  It's  born  in 
some  people,  and  when  it  isn't  they  never  get  quite  up 
to  the  mark." 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  I  returned,  amused,  as  he  made  a 
little  pause.  "On  what  pedestal  am  I  to  be  put?" 

I  had  no  idea  of  what  he  would  say,  and  somehow 
I  was  not  a  little  bewildered  by  his  ambitious  projects. 

"Well,  when  I  get  up  to  the  place  where  I  can  care 
for  a  wife,  I  want  you.  You  would  read  and  study 
and  talk  with  a  fellow,  and  keep  him  up  to  the  mark, 
too.  I  was  glad  you  didn't  want  to  marry  Homer,  not 
but  what  he  will  make  a  splendid,  devoted  husband,  but 
house  and  wife  and  children  will  be  his  boundaries. 
He  will  vote  the  Democratic  ticket  because  his  father 
did,  not  from  any  principle  or  conviction.  Oh,  do  you 
remember  how  you  and  Norman  once  quarrelled  about 
politics?"  and  he  laughed. 

"But,  Ben— I—" 


NOT  MERRY,  BUT  WEDDING   BELLS      191 

He  made  a  gesture  with  his  hand,  and  I  never  under 
stood  before  how  much  fine  dignity  Ben  possessed. 

"After  all  this,  if  you  haven't  really  fallen  in  love 
with  any  one  else,  I  shall  ask  you.  But  if  you  do  meet 
with  any  one  you  prefer  this  must  not  stand  in  the 
way.  I  don't  believe  you  will  be  the  kind  of  girl  who 
is  always  reaching  out  after  lovers.  Your  father  will 
want  to  keep  you." 

"Oh,  that  is  it,"  I  interrupted.  "Father  has  for 
bidden  my  having  any  lovers  for  a  long  while  yet." 

"We  will  be  friends  just  as  we  have  been.  I'll  come 
and  talk  over  my  plans  with  you.  Mother,  you  see, 
wouldn't  understand.  I  like  your  father's  bright,  tren 
chant  remarks,  too.  There's  some  width  to  his  brain. 
But  all  the  other  will  be  put  off  until  the  right  time 
comes — laid  away  on  the  shelf  of  the  future,  not  to  be 
meddled  with.  And  now  if  father  scolds  about  my 
throwing  up  a  good  business  chance,  you  will  under 
stand  why  I  do  it." 

I  could  not  have  helped  admiring  Ben.  He  had  such 
a  good,  strong  face.  All  the  boys  were  well  looking, 
none  as  handsome  as  Dan,  but  it  seemed  to  me  later  on 
in  life  as  if  each  to  a  certain  degree  carried  his  char 
acter  in  his  face. 

"So  now  we  have  had  a  good  talk,"  continued  Ben 
— he  had  done  all  the  talking — "and  we  understand  the 
ground  we  go  upon.  You  know  you  are  the  dearest 
girl  to  all  of  us.  I  shall  never  forget  the  night  you 
came.  And  we  will  be  the  best  of  friends." 

Could  I  refuse  when  the  tender  eyes  looked  up  so 
confidently  ? 


1 92        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"The  best  of  friends,"  I  returned,  and  I  felt  the 
solemnity  of  my  own  voice. 

It  was  true  that  Ben's  new  plans  were  rather  frowned 
upon.  His  employer  was  sorry  to  lose  him. 

"There's  lots  of  money  made  in  speculation,"  said 
Mr.  Hayne,  "and  lots  lost  as  well.  Stands  to  reason 
values  can't  always  increase,  and  immigrants  can't  al 
ways  come  in.  We  have  a  big  country,  with  other  lakes 
and  rivers,  and  the  whole  Atlantic  coast  for  shipping. 
Then  it  seems  rather  shifty  business  to  me  for  steady 
company." 

Ben  did  not  mind,  however.  There  were  some  new 
and  exciting  questions  to  greet  the  new  President  and 
his  Cabinet.  The  boundary  of  Oregon  and  British 
America  almost  stirred  up  warfare,  and  a  new  difficulty 
loomed  up  when  the  State  of  Texas,  an  independent 
principality,  asked  to  enter  the  Union.  Mexico  ob 
jected,  and  there  was  a  talk  of  war.  We  had  many 
things  on  hand,  streets  and  the  muddy  old  river,  and 
at  last  the  canal  that  was  going  to  do  so  much  for  us 
approaching  completion.  Every  year  a  greater  demand 
for  wheat  and  corn  and  live  stock.  Father  added  field 
to  field,  it  seemed  a  passion  with  him. 

The  next  spring  there  came  a  little  girl  to  Homer 
and  Sophie  Hayne.  I  think  Mrs.  Hayne  was  the  glad 
dest  of  all.  The  little  girl  of  her  own  blood  that  she 
had  so  longed  for.  A  sweet,  good  little  thing  who 
seldom  cried  and  smiled  readily. 

They  were  all  prosperous.  Homer  began  to  build 
houses  and  sell  them.  Dan  was  steady,  and  turning 
his  attention  largely  to  cattle  raising  and  buying,  and 


NOT  MERRY,  BUT  WEDDING   BELLS      193 

had  an  interest  in  packing.  He  had  a  room  now  at  the 
hotel,  and  seemed  to  care  little  for  girls,  though  he  was 
not  averse  to  social  pleasures.  His  one  passion  was 
Chita,  who  was  kept  beautifully  groomed.  He  raced 
her  now  and  then.  She  was  the  mother  of  a  splendid 
colt.  He  used  to  talk  to  her  as  if  she  was  a  human 
being,  and  I  think  she  understood  every  word. 

As  for  Mr.  Le  Moyne,  the  treatment  had  failed. 
Norman  had  promised  to  remain  with  him.  They 
would  reside  in  Paris  and  travel. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  SHADED  SIDE 

I  WAS  having  a  happy  girl's  life  with  friends  and  pleas 
ures.  Nanette  Piaget  had  a  lover,  a  young  French 
Canadian,  who  became  enamored  of  prairies,  and  saw 
boundless  possibilities  in  wheat.  He  had  some  money 
and  would  settle  in  Chicago. 

One  day  father  was  brought  home  from  a  bad  fall, 
unconscious;  they  feared  at  first  that  he  was  dead.  I 
was  stunned.  Mrs.  Piaget  came  over  and  one  of  our 
neighbors,  Mrs.  Lewis. 

They  found  his  hip  was  badly  broken.  Three  phy 
sicians  worked  over  him,  and  after  some  hours  he  was 
bandaged.  One  doctor  remained  all  night,  and  Mrs. 
Lewis  stayed.  She  did  a  good  deal  of  nursing,  and 
made  her  home  with  a  married  daughter. 

Fever  set  in,  and  there  followed  six  weeks  of  danger. 
I  don't  know  what  would  have  happened,  but  Dan 
Hayne  took  charge  of  the  outside  matters.  The  wheat 
had  been  cut  and  was  to  be  brought  in,  a  splendid  crop 
it  was. 


THE  SHADED  SIDE  195 

"Everything  grows  its  best  for  your  father,"  he 
said.  "This  is  the  first  setback  he  has  had." 

Everybody  was  very  kind.  But  I  had  never  known 
sorrow  or  anxiety,  and  the  saddest  of  all  was  not  to 
do  anything  that  would  help.  He  had  to  lie  still  and 
suffer.  In  the  height  of  the  fever  he  was  strapped  to 
the  cot,  to  keep  him  from  doing  any  worse  injury  to  his 
hip.  Mrs.  Hayne  coaxed  me  to  come  down  and  stay  a 
few  days,  but  I  had  an  awful  fear  that  father  would 
die.  Or  he  might  come  to  consciousness  and  ask  for 
me.  Now  and  then  he  talked  of  our  journey  from  the 
old  Bay  State,  and  murmured,  "Little  girl,  little  girl," 
but  he  did  not  realize  that  the  little  girl  was  at  his  side 
whenever  she  was  allowed  to  be. 

There  were  a  few  days  when  he  hovered  between 
life  and  death  and  dozed  most  of  the  time.  Then  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  me  and  said  in  a  tremu 
lous  tone,  "Ruth." 

"Father !"  I  caught  his  thin  white  hand  and  covered 
it  with  kisses  and  tears. 

He  drew  a  long  breath.  "I've  been  pretty  sick, 
haven't  I  ?  How  long  has  it  been — a  fortnight  ?" 

"Almost  two  months." 

"Two  months!  And  the  wheat — the  corn — ruined! 
And  what  is  the  matter  with  my  side?  I  can't  move 
my  leg.  Why,  I  don't  understand." 

"You  were  hurt  by  a  fall.  You  have  been  very  ill 
with  a  fever.  And  now  you  are  better.  You  are  going 
to  get  well." 

I  leaned  my  head  down  on  his  shoulder  and  cried. 
I  could  not  help  it. 


196         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Poor  little  girl!"  he  said.     "Poor  little  girll" 

Then  Dr.  Carpenter  came  in,  and  I  know  he  wag 
greatly  relieved. 

"But  we  are  not  out  of  the  woods !"  He  shook  his 
head  dubiously.  "You  can  blow  out  your  candle  very 
easily,  but  with  care  you  may  burn  it  to  the  socket. 
Still  you  have  had  a  mighty  tight  squeeze.  And  there 
must  be  no  crying  over  him,"  shaking  his  ringer  at 
me. 

"Except  for  joy,"  I  retorted,  wiping  my  eyes. 

"I  do  begin  to  recall  things,  but  I  had  no  idea  I  had 
been  ill  so  long.  And  my  hip — my  leg?" 

"It  was  a  very  bad  break.  It  hasn't  gone  on  as  we 
hoped,  the  fever  was  too  much  for  it.  But  we 
think  it  will  be  all  right  in  the  end.  It  will  be  a 
winter's  job,  and  call  for  a  good  deal  of  patience." 

Father  groaned  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"You  may  be  dismissed,  little  maid,"  with  a  smile 
and  gesture  of  the  hand,  "we  have  some  secret  rites  to 
perform." 

I  went  out  and  hugged  Jolette  in  my  joy. 

"I  knowed  'twas  all  right,"  said  Jolette.  "I've  harked 
to  dat  ar  schreech  owel  an'  never  yet  counted  t'ree. 
T'ree  jes'  sure  sartin',  fer  a  death.  An'  the  candile 
didn't  roll  up  a  windin'  sheet  in  de  new  of  the  moon. 
As  fer  dogs  howlin,'  you  can't  depend  on  dem  no  mo', 
'ceptin  dey  run  right  in  de  sick  room." 

Mrs.  Lewis  had  stayed  with  us  nearly  all  the  time, 
making  a  call  now  and  then  at  her  daughter's.  She 
returned  before  the  doctor  went  away,  and  declared 
that  she,  too,  expected  favorable  word,  for  she  had  seen 


THE   SHADED  SIDE  197 

a  change  the  last  three  days.  "And  if  one  doesn't  drop 
off  sudden,  they're  sure  to  pull  through." 

Dan  came  in  every  night  and  I  told  him  of  the  com 
forting  verdict. 

"I  thought  he'd  pull  through.  You  see,  he's  wiry, 
and  a  steady  man,  too.  Had  everything  in  his  favor, 
but  it  was  a  tight  squeeze." 

"Oh,  Dan,  you've  been  so  good,  so  splendid !"  and  I 
caught  his  hand,  looking  up  with  tears  in  my  eyes.  "I 
don't  know  what  we  should  have  done  without  you." 

"Remember  that  some  day." 

I  did  not  understand  the  words  nor  the  tone. 

The  next  was  Sunday,  and  many  of  the  neigh 
bors  were  in.  I  was  not  needed,  and  I  went  to  Sophie's 
with  the  good  tidings.  The  baby  was  so  sweet  and 
cunning.  There  had  been  quite  a  time  about  naming 
it.  They  both  decided  upon  Ruth,  but  there  was  grand 
mother,  who  would  have  felt  hurt  if  left  out.  Elise  and 
Elizabeth  were  so  much  alike  they  could  compliment 
both  in  the  same  name.  So  it  was  Ruth  Elizabeth, 
but  Homer  always  called  her  Little  Girl.  What  would 
Chicago  be  when  she  was  sixteen?  Men  would  be 
describing  old  Chicago  as  they  did  now.  But  the  log 
houses  would  be  gone,  and  the  plain  brick  houses  were 
not  picturesque.  Would  there  be  any  old  Fort  Dear 
born?  And  some  of  the  Indians  had  thought  it  wiser 
to  move  further  back.  The  wheat  and  oats  and  corn 
were  trenching  upon  the  ground  to  which  they  really 
had  no  claim.  They  still  had  their  ball  games  and 
their  races,  the  ambition  of  every  young  brave  was  to 
own  a  horse.  Work  for  anything  else  they  would  not. 


198        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

The  squaws  supplied  them  with  clothing.  They  fished 
and  hunted,  but  the  squaws  tilled  the  fields,  did  bead 
work,  made  curious  chains  of  polished  shells,  that 
looked  as  if  they  were  set  with  gems.  They  seemed 
happy,  too,  but  at  middle  life  they  were  wrinkled  old 
women. 

Saturday  afternoon  was  a  gala  time.  They  had 
games  and  dances,  sometimes  such  fierce  war  dances 
it  seemed  as  if  they  would  scalp  each  other.  There 
were  stringent  laws  against  selling  them  any  quantity 
of  liquor,  and  the  clergymen  tried  to  rouse  some  moral 
and  intellectual  ambition  in  them,  but  it  was  hard  work. 
Were  they  really  the  ornamental  denizens  of  the 
wilderness,  and  with  the  passing  of  that  would  they 
disappear  ? 

Homer  and  Sophie  were  glad  of  my  good  news.  I 
really  was  in  an  exultant  state.  And  when  Homer 
took  me  home  we  found  Ben  there,  who  was  delighted 
and  eager. 

"I'm  so  glad,"  he  said  afterward,  as  we  stood  on  the 
old  stoop,  that  now  extended  out  to  the  edge  of  the 
sidewalk.  Father  had  raised  us  at  least  two  feet.  "I've 
been  thinking  what  I  could  do  for  you,  and  that  I 
ought  to  come  in  often,  but  I  had  a  splendid  chance  to 
learn  German,  which  will  take  three  evenings  in  a  week. 
And  the  disturbances  in  Europe  send  so  many  immi 
grants  over  here.  I  don't  wonder  they  love  to  get  to 
a  free  land,  out  of  the  reach  of  tyrants,  and  there  is  so 
much  to  study." 

"Oh,  Ben,"  I  replied,  "don't  worry  about  us.  I  dare 
say  some  one  will  be  in  every  evening  when  father  is 


THE  SHADED  SIDE  199 

well  enough  to  talk,  and  when  he  can  go  out  a  little — " 

"It's  you  I  am  thinking  about,  and  if  I  can  be  of  any 
service  you  will  surely  let  me  know." 

I  promised.  How  good  they  all  were  to  me.  Does 
one  recall  past  events  more  distinctly  as  one  grows 
older?  I  could  always  see  myself  as  father  lifted  me 
out  of  the  old  wagon,  when  I  was  half  frightened  at 
such  a  host  of  boys. 

Father  improved  very  slowly,  but  his  mind  was  clear, 
and  he  had  a  good  hope  of  being  able  to  get  about  by 
spring.  I  had  known  that  Dan  Hayne  had  been  attend 
ing  to  the  place,  but  I  was  hardly  prepared  for  the 
accounting  he  gave  father. 

"Really,  Dan,"  and  father's  voice  was  husky  with 
emotion,  "things  would  have  gone  to  the  dogs  if  you 
had  not  come  to  the  fore.  I  don't  know  how  I  will 
ever  get  straight  with  you." 

Dan  laughed.  He  had  such  a  jolly,  light-hearted 
ring  in  his  voice,  just  like  his  mother's. 

"It  wasn't  such  a  desperate  sight,  just  to  oversee. 
The  men  seemed  to  know  how  to  take  hold.  Gaynor, 
I  suppose  you're  a  shrewd,  long-headed  Yankee,  look 
ing  at  the  end,  instead  of  going  off  half  cocked.  You 
have  everything  dovetailed,  and  one  thing  just  fits 
in  with  another.  I've  learned  a  lot  of  things  these  two 
months  and  looked  after  my  own  affairs  as  well.  I 
think  you're  about  right.  Twenty  or  thirty  years  from 
now  we'll  be  feeding  these  people  of  the  East,  who 
think  they  know  a  little  bit  more  than  all  the  rest." 

"I  wasn't  brought  up  in  a  slipshod  fashion,"  re 
turned  father  dryly.  "Though  I  don't  wonder  you 


200          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

people  trust  to  chance.  I  never  saw  such  pure  luck  in 
my  life  as  there  is  here — one  can't  call  it  anything 
else." 

Father  had  an  excellent  appetite  and  began  to  feel 
real  well  at  heart,  as  he  termed  it.  Homer  made  him 
a  very  convenient  chair,  that  could  be  raised  and 
lowered  by  an  ingenious  crank  and  a  set  of  pins.  But 
they  found  when  the  doctor  and  Jolette,  who  was  good 
and  strong,  stood  him  up  that  he  had  no  power  at  all 
over  the  hurt  limb — very  little  feeling  in  it. 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  me  that  I  must  be  a  one- 
legged  limpy  Dick  all  the  rest  of  my  life?"  he  de 
manded  of  the  doctor.  He  was  not  a  profane  man 
usually,  but  he  did  swear  then. 

"Well,  we  hope  not.  The  joint  has  not  mended  as 
we  expected;  it  isn't  sound.  It's  the  worst  break  a 
man  can  have  to  knock  him  out,  but  here  it  hasn't  been 
quite  four  months,  and  the  fever  was  awful.  A  man 
who  could  pull  through  that  can  pull  through  other 
things.  There  is  some  paralysis,  but  when  you  come  to 
exercise  even  that  may  mend.  I  think  it  has  im 
proved  in  a  month.  I  give  you  a  year  before  I  lose 
heart." 

Father  groaned,  and  when  he  took  his  hands  from 
his  face  I  saw  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

But  we  made  his  room  cheerful,  and  he  could  be 
pushed  about  in  his  chair.  Jolette  was  as  good  as  a 
masseur,  she  was  so  strong  and  vigorous.  The  doctor 
instructed  her  how  to  rub  him,  and  some  medicaments 
were  used.  We  had  a  good  fire  blazing  on  the  hearth. 
Neighbors  came  in  and  played  cards  and  repeated  the 


THE  SHADED  SIDE  201 

general  gossip.  Then  I  read  to  him.  We  took  the 
Democrat  now,  and  a  new  paper,  the  Journal,  had  been 
started.  He  liked  to  hear  all  sides.  Some  of  the  ideas 
he  flatly  contradicted,  others  he  called  fool  talk.  He 
was  very  fond  of  arguing.  He  and  Dan  had  it  hot  and 
heavy  sometimes,  and  I  was  afraid  Dan  would  break  off 
in  anger.  I  used  to  go  to  the  door  with  him  and  say 
pleadingly : 

"Oh,  Dan,  you  won't  mind,  will  you?  Remember 
how  ill  father  has  been,  and  how  awfully  disappointed 
he  feels  at  not  getting  thoroughly  well.  He  doesn't 
mean  all  he  says,  and  he  would  miss  you  terribly " 

"Don't  worry,  little  one.  I  can  make  allowance. 
Some  of  it  amuses  me,  too." 

Then  he  took  my  face  in  his  hands  and  turned  it  up 
a  little  until  our  eyes  met.  His  were  a  deep  gray. 
There  was  a  masterful  expression  in  them  that  went 
all  through  one.  He  stooped  a  little  and  kissed  me  with 
what  I  understood  later  was  the  passion  of  a  strong 
man,  and  it  left  me  as  helpless  for  a  moment  as  that 
night  of  the  wild  ride. 

"Never  mind,  little  dear,"  he  said,  and  was  gone. 

"Such  a  dumb  idiotic  fool  as  Dan  Hayne  is  in  some 
things !  If  I  couldn't  see  an  inch  before  my  nose  I'd 
get  some  sort  of  a  machine  and  pull  it  out  longer.  He's 
all  right  on  this  slavery  business — we  don't  want  it  here 
at  the  North.  And  the  tariff  has  two  sides,  I'm  free 
to  confess.  But  some  other  matters " 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  quarrel  so  much  with  him,"  I 
interrupted.  "And  he  is  so  good  to  us.  You  and  Mr. 
Harris  always  get  along  so  nicely." 


202         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Shucks!"  snorted  father  in  disdain.  "There's  no 
arguing  where  two  people  believe  just  the  same  things 
in  the  same  way,  or  pretend  to.  I  like  a  man  to  have 
some  sharp  opinions,  if  he  does  ram  the  points  into  you. 
It's  like  a  wrestling  bout,  and  stirs  up  your  blood. 
Dan  won't  be  so  sure  of  things  when  he  is  forty." 

I  felt  a  little  relieved.  But  the  kiss  burned  upon  my 
lips  and  brought  a  curious  heat  to  my  cheek. 

There  was  a  young  paper  started  about  this  time  by 
a  Mr.  Wright,  who  was  always  promulgating  some 
scheme  for  the  public  good.  He  was  very  eager  and 
earnest  about  public-school  education,  and  the  necessity 
for  children,  who  were  to  be  the  future  rulers  of  the 
State,  to  know  what  their  duties  were,  and  to  be  able  to 
undertake  them.  Many  improvements  in  old  Chicago 
were  owing  to  his  fertile  brain,  and  the  energy  and 
ability  to  carry  them  through. 

This  particular  one  that  interested  father  from  its 
first  inception  was  the  "Prairie  Farmer."  At  the  head  of 
it  was  this  motto — "Farmers,  write  for  your  paper." 
All  kinds  of  agricultural  questions  were  asked  and  an 
swered  as  correctly  as  possible  for  the  limited  knowl 
edge  of  that  time.  Experiences  were  exchanged — the 
value  of  inventions  and  what  might  be  done  by 
machinery.  Some  of  those  old  ideas  did  get  appro 
priated. 

Father  told  me  to  draw  up  the  table  and  bring  him 
pen  and  ink.  He  often  looked  over  and  straightened 
up  accounts.  He  kept  every  item  and  knew  the  re 
turns  of  different  methods,  always  adopting  the  most 
profitable  one. 


THE   SHADED  SIDE  203 

This  kept  him  busy  for  a  long  time.  He  had  a 
quill  pen,  and  he  chewed  the  end  of  it,  wrinkled  up  his 
brow,  and  shut  his  lips  in  a  straight  line  so  that  you 
could  hardly  see  the  color.  Somewhere  in  the  after 
noon  he  asked  me  to  read  a  rather  discouraging  article, 
and  then  said : 

"Now  listen  to  this,  and  it's  no  visionary  thing 
either." 

He  read  a  very  spirited  reply.  I  recognized  at  once 
that  some  of  it  was  his  own  experience. 

"Oh,  father !"  I  cried,  delighted,  "you  wrote  it  your 
self.  It's  splendid!  And  you  ought  to  have  it 
printed." 

"Good  enough  for  that,  eh  ?"  He  gave  his  quizzical 
smile  and  twinkled  his  eyes. 

"Oh,  yes;  can't  you  have  it  put  in  the  Prairie 
Farmer?" 

"Well,"  with  a  sort  of  amused  deliberateness,  "I  had 
thought  a  little  of  that,  since  they  are  inviting  plain 
farmer  people  to  air  their  wisdom.  Do  you  think  you 
could  copy  it,  not  in  a  scratchy  girl's  hand,  but  one  easy 
to  read?  Sit  here  and  try.  I'm  tired  and  feel  like  a 
clock  with  its  machinery  running  down.  By  the  great 
boot !  I  wonder  if  I  am  only  to  be  half  a  man  the  rest 
of  my  life !"  and  he  gave  a  groan. 

"But  the  better  half  is  in  good  order,  your  head  and 
your  hands,  and  Dr.  Carpenter  is  sure  you  will  im 
prove  as  soon  as  the  weather  is  pleasant  enough  to  get 
out." 

I  arranged  the  little  table  just  beside  him.  I  was 
happy  to  see  him  so  interested.  Then  I  began  on  odd 


204        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

slips  of  paper  to  see  what  I  could  do  writing  large. 
Father  looked  them  over.  I  suppose  it  would  have 
made  a  modern  girl  nervous,  but  we  knew  nothing 
about  nerves  in  those  days,  and  then  I  was  so  intent 
upon  pleasing  him.  My  whole  heart  had  been  full  of 
sympathy  all  winter.  I  had  never  seen  any  one  helpless, 
before  but  a  baby. 

"This  I  think  will  do.  And  you  write  only  on  one 
side  of  the  paper." 

"Oh,  dear,"  I  cried,  aghast,  "think  of  all  the  paper  it 
will  take!" 

He  made  a  funny  little  moue,  as  the  French  call  it. 
Paper  was  dear  and  poor.  Foolscap  was  in  general 
use. 

I  did  not  get  along  very  fast,  and  presently  the  dark 
overtook  me.  So  I  put  it  away  for  the  next  day,  but 
I  was  all  impatience. 

"Call  Jolette  to  let  me  down  a  little.  And  then  stir 
the  fire." 

Both  were  attended  to.  Then  Ben  ran  in.  He  was 
going  home  to  supper,  and  this  was  German  evening. 
But  he  had  two  or  three  bits  of  brightness  that  amused 
father. 

I  finished  the  paper  the  next  morning,  and  we  folded 
it  up  and  tied  it  with  a  cord,  writing  on  the  outside, 
"To  the  Editor  of  the  Prairie  Farmer." 

"Now,  Ruth,"  he  said,  "I  wish  you  would  take  it 
down  to  the  office.  I  doubt  if  any  one  is  in  just  at  this 
time,  and  so  much  the  better.  Lay  it  on  the  desk  in 
plain  sight.  And  I  dare  say  it  will  go  into  the  waste 
basket.  But  I  believe  that  has  been  the  result  of  some 


THE  SHADED  SIDE  205 

first  efforts  of  people  who  came  up  to  fame  afterwards. 
Don't  stop  to  talk  or  explain,  and  I  hope  no  one  will 
see  you.  Then  we  won't  get  laughed  at." 

"If  anybody  laughs  at  that" — my  face  was  scarlet 
and  my  eyes  flashed — I  could  think  of  nothing  bad 
enough  for  punishment. 

"There,  there,  run  along." 

Men  were  going  to  and  fro  to  dinner.  I  threaded 
my  way  hurriedly,  and  had  a  green  veil  tied  over  my 
face.  Through  Randolph  Street,  here  it  was  on  the 
corner  of  an  alley  way,  "Paririe  Farmer"  over  the  un 
pretentious  door  way.  I  peered  in  timidly.  There  was 
a  clumsy-looking  boy  with  very  red  cheeks  sitting  on 
a  box  and  kicking  his  heels  against  it.  There  was  also 
a  high  square  desk  with  four  slim  legs.  I  crossed  over 
to  this  and  laid  down  the  precious  package. 

"What  cher  want?"  exclaimed  the  boy  gruffly. 
"Folks  gone  ter  dinner." 

"Nothing,"  I  replied.  But  before  I  had  shut 
the  door  curiosity  jumped  down  with  a  thump  and  no 
doubt  satisfied  himself. 

Father  was  very  well  pleased  with  the  adventure. 

"Now,  Little  Girl,"  he  said,  giving  my  hand  a 
squeeze,  as  if  it  was  the  sign  of  a  conspiracy,  "don't 
say  a  word  or  give  a  hint  to  a  living  soul,  not  Ben  or 
Sophie.  We'll  see  what  comes  next  week." 

I  laughed  and  nodded,  and  we  crooked  little  fingers, 
and  said,  "Honor  bright." 

But  oh,  what  a  long  week  it  was.  I  think  if  later 
on  I  had  written  a  book  and  offered  it  to  a  publisher  I 
couldn't  have  been  more  anxious.  I  looked  over  the 


zo6       A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

back  numbers,  and  it  didn't  seem  as  if  the  articles  were 
truly  any  better,  though  some  took  up  a  wider  range. 

Those  old  papers  were  narrow  and  local.  Boston, 
mayhap,  might  have  begun  intellectual,  but  there  was 
too  much  work  in  Chicago  in  those  early  years  to  in 
dulge  in  flights  of  poesy  or  literary  evolution.  But 
they  were  strong  and  earnest,  full  of  boundless  enter 
prise  and  ambition,  and  the  romance  was  to  come  later. 
Indeed,  the  romance  then  outside  of  the  real  business 
was  marrying,  having  a  home,  and  counting  on  what 
the  children  would  do  in  the  next  generation.  They 
did  not  think  to  build  their  Rome  in  a  day,  but  they 
could  lay  foundations,  stretch  out  arms  that  would 
bring  the  great  world  in  its  grasp. 

I  counted  the  days.  Father  said  not  a  word  about 
it.  And  I  could  hardly  wait  until  afternoon.  Cold  as 
it  was,  I  hung  about  the  door-step  and  then  ran  down  to 
the  sidewalk  to  meet  the  boy,  who  stared  at  me  as  if  I 
was  demented.  I  glanced  down  the  outside — oh,  there 
it  was.  There  was  a  throb  of  joy  in  my  heart  and  a 
rush  of  tears  to  my  eyes.  I  hurried  in  and  laid  the 
paper  on  father's  lap. 

"Hello!"  he  ejaculated. 

I  went  and  mended  the  fire  and  stood  there  many 
minutes,  it  seemed  to  me. 

"Well,  they  didn't  take  us  to  kindle  the  fire  with, 
did  they!"  His  tone  was  so  light-hearted  it  was  like 
the  ringing  of  a  joy  bell,  and  it  gave  me  a  thrill. 

"I'm  a  foolish  old  fellow  and  you're  a  foolish  young 
thing,  but  I  guess  we  enjoy  this  bit  of  print,  and  there's 
no  one  to  say  we  shan't.  But  there's  been  lots  of  books 


THE  SHADED  SIDE  207 

and  papers  printed  before  we  were  thought  of,  and 
there  will  be  after  we  are  gone,  and  I  s'pose  each  fel 
low  will  have  a  moment  of  pleasure,  so  why  shouldn't 
we  enjoy  ours?" 

We  did  enjoy  it  to  the  full.  It  was  so  sensible,  so 
strong  and  practical,  and  full  of  a  certain  hope,  assur 
ance.  And  what  gave  us  a  greater  delight  was  these 
few  words  on  the  inside,  in  the  column  of  queries  and 
items. 

"Will  John  Farmer  please  send  his  address  to  this 
office?  We  commend  his  article  heartily  to  our 
readers." 

"We  won't  shout  it  out  on  the  housetops  yet.  Roofs 
are  too  slippery  to  climb,"  and  father  laughed. 

It  was  the  best  medicine  he  had  for  weeks.  The  sud 
den  interest  in  a  new  channel,  taking  him  out  of  his 
dreary  waiting,  strengthened  heart  and  brain,  if  not 
body.  It  was  a  new  resource. 

The  inquiry  was  answered,  and  to  our  surprise 
brought  Mr.  Wright  himself.  He  spent  a  whole  morn 
ing  with  father,  and  had  really  known  considerable 
about  father's  work  and  success.  He  was  a  most  de 
lightful  man,  and  years  afterward  I  appreciated  him 
and  his  work  more  truly  than  any  unformed  girl  could 
have  done. 

He  asked  father  then  to  go  on  writing,  to  give  his 
experiences  and  advice.  He,  too,  had  boundless  ambi 
tions  for  Chicago,  and  his  was  the  larger  insight  for 
education  and  broader  movements. 

His  sympathy  was  very  cheering  as  well.  He  put 
new  heart  into  father.  And  though  less  than  a  year 


208         A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

afterward  he  was  compelled  by  the  stress  of  other 
matters,  fully  as  important,  to  transfer  the  editorial 
helm  to  the  Reverend  Ambrose  Wight,  one  letter  in  the 
name  was  not  to  make  much  difference.  It  was  con 
ducted  with  the  same  untiring  zeal  for  local  advance 
ment,  the  same  strong  common  sense  and  sterling 
integrity.  Father  had  a  warm  friendship  with  him 
through  a  sorrowful  time,  and  Ben  Hayne  found  in 
him  a  splendid  practical  adviser. 

And  so  spring  opened.  Father  had  some  crutches 
and  began  to  go  out  a  little.  But  the  streets  were  still 
in  a  dreadful  condition,  though  now  strenuous  efforts 
were  being  made  for  some  kind  of  pavements  and  side 
walks.  As  many  people  had  raised  their  sidewalks  two 
and  three  feet  it  was  resolved  to  establish  this  grade. 
New  houses  were  being  built.  Homer  was  rushed 
with  business,  and  he  wished  Ben  wasn't  so  booky. 
As  a  firm  they  could  make  no  end  of  money  just  now. 
It  was  hard  to  find  good  workmen. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A  TURN  IN  THE  LANE 

POOR  father!  My  heart  ached  sorely  for  him.  He 
suffered  with  his  hip,  and  his  leg  was  useless.  He  was 
still  kept  bandaged,  and  we  hoped  presently  some  im 
provement  would  happen  to  the  joint.  It  was  bitterly 
hard  when  he  had  been  so  active,  so  light  of  foot,  so 
full  of  energy  and  hope.  If  it  had  not  been  for  his 
writing  now  and  then,  I  think  he  would  have  lost  heart 
entirely. 

But  something  had  to  be  done.  He  considered 
several  projects  and  discussed  them  with  Dan,  who 
seemed  to  know  a  little  of  everything.  An  overseer — 
but  where  could  one  find  the  right  kind  of  man. 
Renting  the  place  on  shares  he  objected  to  stren 
uously. 

"If  you  could  get  about  the  overseer  might  do," 
commented  Dan.  "But  you  want  some  one  up  on  the 
good  points  of  stock,  of  grain,  of  soil,  of  everything  in 
fact,  or  else  some  one  willing  to  study  your  methods, 
which  have  been  a  success.  Well — I  don't  see  how 
you  stand  it.  I  should  make  the  whole  atmosphere  of 


210         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

the  town  blue  and  sulphurous,"  laughing  with  hearty 
good  nature,  yet  with  evident  energy. 

"Can  you  make  one  stalk  of  corn  bear  five  ears  ?  If 
so  swear,"  said  father  with  a  dubious  half  frown,  half 
smile.  "I  have  found  that  even  a  horse  well  brought  up 
doesn't  like  to  be  sworn  at.  A  mule  may  stand  it.  He 
can  kick  back." 

"Do  you  swear  at  Chita?"  I  asked. 

"Chita !"  What  a  wealth  of  tenderness  there  was  in 
the  tone.  "I'd  about  as  quick  strike  her  a  blow,  and 
I'd  deserve  to  be  horsewhipped  if  I  did  either." 

Dan  was  a  handsome,  manly  fellow.  Even  of  all  that 
came  afterward  I  must  admit  it,  though  in  this 
hardly  more  than  girlhood  I  was  not  considering  in 
dividual  men.  There  were  many  in  Chicago  who  were 
tall  and  strong  and  vigorous.  Father  was  only  medium 
size,  and  with  no  striking  good  looks,  though  he  had 
a  trusty,  honest,  shrewd  and  rather  humorous  face.  But 
I  loved  him  dearly.  I  could  have  gone  to  sleep  in  his 
arms  as  I  had  on  that  long  journey  from  Massachu 
setts  to  Illinois,  and  now  that  he  was  unfortunate  I 
knew  I  should  never  leave  him. 

Dan's  figure  while  large  was  supple  in  its  quick 
movements — lithe  is  the  term,  I  suppose.  He  had  the 
most  fascinating  air  of  laziness  and  ease.  I  have  seen 
him  throw  himself  on  the  grass  with  a  grace  that  would 
have  moved  a  sculptor  to  envy,  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  tossed  his  head  back  and  laughed  tempted 
me  to  save  up  the  funny  little  household  incidents  and 
jests,  and  the  quips  I  saw  in  the  paper,  just  for  the 
sake  of  the  merry  ring.  There  was  the  boyish  sur- 


A  TURN  IN  THE   LANE  211 

render  to  fun,  the  delight  in  life  that  was  really  infec 
tious.  As  a  little  girl  I  had  felt  afraid  of  him,  there 
were  moods  now  that  made  me  tremble,  there  were 
glances  of  his  eyes  so  deep,  so  eager  that  I  felt  a  help 
less  captive  with  a  wild,  unavailing  desire  for  flight. 
Then  always  recurred  to  me  the  night  of  the  wild  ride 
and  how  his  arm  had  held  me  like  a  vice. 

His  hair  was  dark  and  fine  and  thick,  with  the  ends 
curling  a  little.  In  the  winter  he  wore  a  beard,  in  the 
summer  shaved  it  off.  He  had  a  fine  spirited  nose,  with 
flexible  nostrils  that  made  me  think  of  Chita,  and  a 
beautiful  upper  lip,  such  as  the  old  Latin  poets  gave  to 
their  women.  When  I  came  to  read  them  Dan  used 
to  rise  before  me.  He  had  a  broad  chin  with  a  dimple 
in  it,  which  he  really  hated.  "It  was  good  enough  for 
a  girl !"  he  would  say  disdainfully. 

With  all  his  kindness  through  the  winter,  1  had 
come  to  be  very  grateful,  and  we  were  delightful 
friends,  but  on  my  part  friends  only.  I  could  not 
imagine  Sophie  or  Nanette  with  such  a  husband.  I 
sometimes  on  Sunday  interested  myself  curiously  in 
thinking  which  of  the  grown-up  young  ladies  he  would 
marry.  He  called  at  the  Doles  quite  often  and  took 
out  Miss  Alleta,  who  would  have  made  a  very  striking 
Mrs.  Dan  Hayne.  Then  Martha  Campbell  was  always 
extremely  cordial  to  him  and  rumor  said  she  would 
not  be  averse  to  more  regular  attentions.  He  was  a 
prosperous  young  fellow,  and  though  his  trades  were 
generally  advantageous,  no  one  ever  accused  him  of 
unfair  dealing.  I  do  not  believe  he  would  have  cheated 
any  one  out  of  a  dollar,  not  from  high  principle 


212        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

but  because  he  thought  it  mean,  and  meanness  he 
abhorred. 

Out  of  all  the  talk  father  and  Dan  came  to  a  business 
arrangement.  It  was  a  great  relief.  Homer  went  over 
to  Mrs.  Morrison's,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  haggling, 
bought  the  wheeling  chair  granny  had  used,  so  father 
could  get  about  by  himself,  for  his  arms  were  strong, 
and  there  was  an  attachment  at  the  side,  lever-like,  that 
could  be  propelled  by  the  occupant. 

Looking  back  at  this  summer  it  was  a  happy  one.  I 
was  not  much  confined  at  home.  Somehow  I  shifted 
the  care  of  father  on  Dan.  I  spent  a  day  now  and  then 
with  Sophie,  the  baby  was  so  utterly  charming,  begin 
ning  to  say  little  words  that  we  understood  perfectly. 
Mother  Hayne  and  Chris  were  also  very  pleasant. 
Chris  had  joined  the  church  in  the  winter  and  his  in 
most  desire  was  to  be  a  clergyman.  He  had  a  really 
beautiful  voice.  On  Sundays  I  used  to  stop — there 
were  always  some  men  in  to  see  father — and  sitting 
out  on  the  old  porch,  much  renovated  and  rose  grown 
now,  we  used  to  sing  the  old  Methodist  hymns  that  I 
can  never  hear  without  the  tears  coming  into  my  eyes. 

"Oh,  how  happy  are  they 
Who  their  Saviour  obey, 
And  have  laid  up  their  treasure  above," 

and 

"Come  thou  fount  of  every  blessing, 
Tune  my  heart  to  sing  thy  grace, 
Streams  of  mercy  without  ceasing, 
Call  for  songs  of  loudest  praise," 


A  TURN  IN  THE   LANE  213 

to  the  old  tune  of  Greenville.     There  was  still  another : 

"The  Lord  into  His  garden  comes, 
The  spices  yield  their  sweet  perfume, 
The  lilies  grow  and  thrive " 

Are  there  any  new  hymns  now  that  bring  heaven  so 
near? 

Mr.  Hayne  did  not  take  cordially  to  the  project. 
He  could  understand  Ben's  ambition,  and  looked  to  see 
him  either  a  governor  or  a  senator  at  middle  life,  but 
ministers  were  not  likely  to  make  fortunes.  Chris  told 
me  his  dreams,  and  not  a  few  of  them  found  lodgment 
in  his  mother's  heart. 

As  for  Norman,  his  lot  in  life  seemed  to  be  settled. 
Mr.  Le  Moyne  was  dependent  upon  him  and  loved  him 
like  a  son.  When  Ben  confessed  his  ambitions  to  his 
brother,  Norman  advised  him  to  prepare  for  college  and 
enter  Harvard,  as  that  had  an  excellent  law  school  as 
well.  He  would  send  him  two  hundred  dollars  a  year 
until  he  was  through. 

"Isn't  that  the  loveliest  and  most  generous  thing  in 
the  world !"  and  the  tears  stood  in  Ben's  eyes  when  he 
told  me,  beautiful  brown  eyes  they  were.  "Norman's  a 
solid  brick.  I  think  I  can  get  through  in  five  years, 
and  this  year  to  prepare.  I  should  hate  dreadfully  to 
leave  dear  old  Chicago  and  all  of  you.  But  I  could 
come  back  in  vacation  if  I  thought  it  best." 

"It's  just  splendid.  And  then  Boston  is — is  so  dif 
ferent,  and  has  so  much  in  it" — and  I  paused,  for  my 
ideas  of  Boston  were  extremely  vague. 

"And  she  wasn't  so  wonderful  when  she  was  only 


214        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

thirty  years  old.  And  now  when  you  think  of  the  canal 
that  gives  us  the  key  to  the  Mississippi,  the  Sault  Ste 
Marie  planned,  the  railroads  that  in  a  dozen  years  more 
will  be  an  accomplished  fact — why,  we  shall  be  the  cen 
tre  of  everything." 

We  were  enthusiastic,  not  mere  braggarts.  And  the 
years  showed  the  wildest  dreams  were  possible,  though 
so  much  of  it  had  to  be  made  by  human  hands. 

"Six  years.  It  is  a  long  while  to  wait,  isn't  it?" 

he  continued  musingly.  "Then  you  will  be " 

studying  me  intently. 

"I  shall  be  twenty-one.  Oh,  Ben,  please  don't  think 
of  that,"  I  entreated,  for  I  could  guess  what  was  in  his 
mind. 

"It  wouldn't  be  fair  unless  you  cared  very  much. 
Then,  I  think,  it  would  be  hard  to  have  your  lover  so 
far  away  and  miss  all  the  sweetness  of  courtship.  You 
see,  I  should  be  so  engrossed  I  shouldn't  have  time  for 
society,  and  could  not  keep  thinking  of  you.  But  I 
don't  believe  you  are  really  in  love,  Ruth.  We  are 
more  like  brother  and  sister." 

"That  is  it,"  I  cried.  "And  I  do  not  think  I  shall 
marry  at  all,  and  that  is  why  all  you  Hayne  boys  will 
be  so  dear  to  me.  For  now  you  see  father  will  need 
me.  I  do  not  suppose  he  can  ever  be  quite  well  again, 
and  he  has  come  to  depend  on  me  for  so  many  things. 
And  I  shall  try  to  be  very  happy." 

"You  are  a  darling !"  He  caught  my  hand  and  kissed 
it.  "And  you  see  we  can  tell  better  then  than  now. 
I  shall  hope  it  will  come  about  some  way,  for  I  shal? 
never  find  any  one  I  like  as  well  as  you." 


A  TURN   IN  THE   LANE  215 

"Why,  I  shall  be  almost  an  old  maid  then,"  with  an 
hysterical  sort  of  laugh,  yet  a  pang  for  lost  youth. 
Girls  in  the  new  countries  married  young.  "And  I 
may  be  queer " 

"You  will  never  be  anything  but  sweet  to  me,  a  dear 
little  girl,  but  it  is  best  that  you  should  be  quite  free. 
If  it  was  ten  years  and  I  came  back  I  know  I  should 
love  you,  for  I  should  feel  then  that  I  had  the  supreme 
right,  that  there  was  no  one  to  dispute  me." 

Dear,  brave,  loyal  Ben.  Never  girl  or  woman  had  a 
truer  friend. 

It  was  by  Mr.  Wight's  advice  that  Ben  went  to  a 
preparatory  school  that  autumn,  since  he  had  fully  de 
cided  on  his  course,  and  we  had  no  regular  systematic 
training  for  college  then. 

Everything  went  on  well,  only  father  did  not  im 
prove  much.  But  his  writing  was  a  great  delight  to 
him,  and  papers  at  a  distance  spoke  of  John  Farmer's 
trenchant  articles,  which  pleased  him  immensely. 

To  be  sure  he  and  Dan  did  not  always  agree,  but 
they  gave  and  took,  and  so  seemed  to  get  along  pretty 
well.  I  do  not  know  what  father  would  have  done 
without  him. 

It  would  not  be  possible  to  be  brought  into  such 
familiar  contact  with  a  man  and  not  lapse  into  a  cer 
tain  intimacy,  I  suppose,  especially  as  he  had  charming 
moods.  He  was  so  much  older  that  I  always  thought 
of  his  marrying  some  one  eighteen  or  twenty,  and  of 
the  families  of  note.  We  sparred  and  jested,  he  praised 
my  cooking  at  times,  he  thought  I  had  such  pretty, 
householdy  ways,  and  that  I  loved  father,  which  I  did. 


2i6        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

When  I  went  to  Sophie's  or  Mrs.  Hayne's  he  came  for 
me  in  the  evening.  And  one  picnic  we  had  he  took  a 
team  and  a  big  wagon,  and  had  no  end  of  fun  giving 
the  girls,  little  and  big,  a  drive.  Miss  Campbell  was 
really  devoted  to  him  that  day. 

Somehow,  I  thought  of  Polly  Morrison,  though  Miss 
Campbell  did  nothing  pronounced,  nor  ordered  Dan 
about  as  Polly  used  to  do. 

Mrs.  Morrison  had  spent  some  months  with  her. 
Polly  was  like  a  queen.  Mr.  Maseurier  had  no  end  of 
slaves  on  his  sugar  plantation,  and  some  were  up 
to  the  great  house.  Both  sons  were  married,  one  set 
tled  at  New  Orleans,  the  other  in  Vincennes.  There 
seemed  a  great  deal  of  gayety  at  that  place,  and  Kas- 
kaskia  and  Polly  was  in  the  midst  of  it. 

Then  there  was  a  kind  of  all-day  camp  meeting  in 
the  woods,  and  Chris  and  I  had  a  very  happy  time. 
Oh,  the  beautiful  singing!  I  was  almost  impatient  at 
the  addresses  and  the  praying. 

I  had,  too,  this  summer  a  pretty  flower  garden  of 
my  own.  Dan  brought  me  some  geraniums  which  I 
had  never  seen  before.  I  did  delight  in  it,  and  I  used 
to  keep  the  blossoms  in  the  house.  The  first  time  I 
had  a  bowl  full  father  said,  "That's  like  old  times. 
Your  mother  was  so  fond  of  flowers." 

"Oh,  do  tell  me  about  mother,"  I  cried,  hanging  over 
the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"There  isn't  much  to  tell,  dear.  We  had  three  happy 
years.  We  were  young  and  poor,  and  very  hard 
worked.  And  one  of  the  drawbacks  to  this  prosperity 
is  that  she  is  not  here  to  share  it." 


A  TURN   IN  THE   LANE  217 

His  voice  fell  to  a  tender  solemnity,  and  I  felt  awed. 
I  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  death. 

Then  Dan  began  to  take  me  out  driving.  He  had 
another  horse,  but  he  seldom  drove  Chita  except  by  her 
self  in  a  kind  of  sulky.  Sam  was  larger,  and  one  of 
father's  horses  matched  him.  There  was  another  odd 
thing,  he  did  not  treat  me  so  like  a  child,  though  he 
was  very  sweet  and  less  imperious.  I  liked  him  better, 
but  there  was  a  mysterious  feeling  that  I  could  not 
explain.  Still  fifteen  is  generally  not  analytical,  and  in 
those  days  the  frank,  free  life  had  not  made  us  intro 
spective. 

The  crops  had  been  fairly  good.  Father  I  found 
had  rather  given  up  any  hope  of  entire  recovery,  but 
he  was  not  despondent.  We  had  drawn  so  much  nearer 
together,  and  I  was  taking  such  an  interest  in  his 
articles.  T.  was  getting  to  be  quite  a  theoretic 
farmer. 

One  autumn  evening,  it  was  raining  very  hard,  a 
perfect  deluge.  No  one  came  in.  In  fact,  the  east 
wind  blew  such  a  hurricane  off  the  lake  that  a  pedes 
trian  could  hardly  keep  on  his  feet.  We  had  a  splendid 
fire,  and  there  was  a  box  of  geraniums  in  the  window 
full  of  scarlet  bloom. 

"Come  and  sit  here,"  said  father,  motioning  to  the 
arm  of  the  chair. 

It  was  broad,  and  he  could  use  it  for  a  writing  desk. 
It  was  a  favorite  seat  of  mine.  I  put  my  arm  around 
his  neck  and  kissed  him  on  the  forehead. 

"Little  Girl,"  he  began,  "we  love  each  other  very 
much.  We  have  no  near  of  kin,  it  is  just  you  and  I." 


2i 8        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN   OLD  CHICAGO 

"Yes,"  I  made  answer.  "But  there  are  all  the 
Haynes,  and  Sophie,  and  several  of  the  girls  that  I 
make  believe  are  cousins." 

He  laughed.  "And  we  must  never  separate,  I  think. 
I  couldn't  live  without  you." 

"Oh,  father,  no!  no!"  I  cried,  with  passionate  em 
phasis. 

"But  suppose  in  a  year  or  two  some  man  wants  to 
marry  you,  or  rather  that  you  fall  in  love.  And — 
after  all,  love  is  the  best  thing  in  a  woman's  life.  You 
see,  the  old  people  do  not  live  forever." 

"Oh,  father,  you  must  not,  shall  not  die!  If  you 
did  I  should  drown  myself  in  the  lake,"  and  I  put  my 
wet  cheek  down  to  his. 

"There,  dear.  I  am  not  thinking  of  dying.  Indeed 
this  last  month  my  hip  has  felt  stronger,  and  I  am 
quite  myself.  But  I  am  a  good  many  years  older  than 
you,  and  naturally  would  go  first." 

"Oh,  do  not  let  us  think  of  it.  I  cannot  bear  it,"  I 
pleaded,  with  every  pulse  in  a  tumult. 

"Under  some  circumstances  I  should  like  to  see  you 
married.  You  were  not  in  love  with  Homer,  and  some 
one  else  was." 

"And  there  has  been  Ben."  Then  I  confessed  that 
episode,  which  he  had  not  even  mistrusted. 

"The  third  time  is  fatal,  I  believe."  There  was  a 
half  laughter  in  his  eyes,  yet  a  tender  gravity  as  he 
looked  earnestly  at  me,  and  my  cheeks  burned. 

"Do  you  care  for  Ben?  Do  you  want  to  be  en 
gaged?" 

"Oh,  no,  no !    I  like  Ben  very  much,  but  no,  I  do  not 


A  TURN   IN  THE   LANE  219 

want  to  marry  him — ever,"  I  said  incoherently,  but 
with  decision. 

"Listen,  Little  Girl.  I  cannot  get  along  alone.  If  you 
were  five  years  older  and  a  strong,  robust  woman  I 
might  train  you  for  an  assistant.  I  have  known  women 
at  home  who  cared  for  a  farm  and  reared  a  family  of 
children.  But  you  are  too  young,  and  the  conditions 
here  are  too  wild,  too  unformed,  too  severe.  They 
need  a  man's  strength  and  resolution  to  grapple  with 
them.  I  have  made  a  good  start  and  am  on  the  high 
road  to  success,  only  now  I  cannot  follow  it  up.  I  see 
that,  although  I  have  fought  against  the  conviction. 
Either  I  must  give  up  and  step  out,  or  have  some  one 
to  assist  me  who  will  take  an  interest,  and  whose  in 
terest  will  be  the  same  as  mine." 

"But  will  not  Dan  do  it?"  I  inquired,  innocently. 
"You  and  he  get  on  pretty  well." 

"He  has  proposed  to  on  one  condition.  And  that  is 
— my  little  girl." 

His  tone  was  low  and  he  pressed  me  closer. 

"Oh,  you  don't  mean — "  I  cried  in  a  kind  of  terror. 
"You  can't  mean — " 

"He  has  asked  me  if  I  would  object  to  his  trying  to 
win  you.  There  need  be  no  hurry.  He  is  a  smart, 
bright  fellow  with  lots  of  energy  and  push,  and  it  does 
seem  as  if  everything  he  takes  hold  of  succeeds.  In 
this  case  we  would  go  on  together.  Our  interests 
would  be  identical.  We  should  both  love  you.  I 
shouldn't  feel  afraid  then  that  you  would  be  left  with 
out  a  protector,  if  any  untoward  event  happened  to  me. 
But  I  am  not  going  to  urge  you.  I  think  he  must  care 


220        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

for  you,  since  there  are  other  girls  with  much  richer 
fathers  that  I  am  sure  would  accept  him  for  the  ask 
ing.  You  may  think  about  it." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  marry  any  one,"  I  protested  in 
great  tumult  of  soul. 

"You  are  so  young.  Yet  it  is  rather  queer  you  have 
not  fancied  any  of  these  boys,"  and  he  gave  a  soft 
chuckle,  as  if  it  rather  amused  him.  "Their  mother 
cares  so  much  for  you,  too.  If  I  could  be  well  again 
we  would  snap  our  fingers  at  them  all.  But  farming 
needs  the  head  to  be  able  to  get  about  here  and  there 
and  keep  matters  up  sharp.  Well,  well,  I  suppose  we 
have  to  accept  what  comes,"  with  a  long  sigh. 

"It  is  very  hard,"  I  returned.  "And  yet  you  are  so 
well  otherwise,  and  not  old." 

"No;  if  I  were  ten  years  older  I  would  resign  myself 
to  my  fate  without  grumbling." 

"But  I  do  not  want  you  any  older." 

"And  you  would  be  over  twenty-five." 

"A  horrid  old  maid,"  I  ejaculated.  Single  women 
were  not  held  in  high  esteem  in  those  days.  There 
was  a  great  need  of  wives,  indeed  many  a  first  wife 
died  of  overwork  or  over  ambition,  and  more  men  than 
women  immigrated  from  the  older  States.  Only  the 
very  undesirable  were  left  behind.  Of  course  I  should 
be  married  sometime. 

But  it  seemed  strange  to  think  of  Dan  Hayne  as  a 
husband.  He  was  so  much  older.  He  rightly  be 
longed  to  the  girls  of  eighteen  or  twenty.  But  after  I 
was  in  bed,  and  I  could  not  sleep  readily,  I  thought  of 
the  kind  of  son  father  needed.  A  man  in  store  business 


A  TURN   IN  THE  LANE  221 

or  a  mechanic  of  any  kind  would  be  of  little  service  to 
him.  Dan  was  buying  and  selling  property  and  stock, 
went  round  to  the  near-by  settlements,  was  considered 
a  good  judge  of  many  things,  and  had  friends  on  every 
hand,  though  he  was  masterful  and  at  times  high 
tempered.  He  was  a  gay  young  "buck"  as  they  termed 
it  then,  but  marriage  was  supposed  to  settle  a  man. 

The  figure  of  Polly  Morrison  flashed  up  before  me. 
Why,  I  could  not  tell,  for  I  had  not  thought  of  her 
until  she  appeared  like  a  strange,  splendid  vision. 
There  was  a  mocking  light  in  her  glittering  eyes.  Why 
did  she  not  forbid  the  bans  ?  She  only  smiled  in  a  sort 
of  triumph. 

The  next  morning  Nanette  came  for  me  to  go  shop 
ping  with  her,  and  though  we  had  not  a  very  extensive 
array  of  stores,  still  we  had  a  nice  variety  of  goods. 
Some  of  the  older  people  thought  there  was  too  much 
catering  to  the  pride  of  life.  We  made  one  or  two 
calls,  we  chatted  with  the  clerks  we  knew,  and  when  I 
reached  home  Dan  was  just  going  away.  He  and 
father  had  been  examining  some  business  papers.  We 
merely  spoke.  I  ran  in  the  kitchen  to  hurry  Jolette 
about  the  dinner. 

Chris  came  in  the  next  morning.  There  was  a  won 
derful  preacher  from  England  who  could  give  our 
town  but  this  one  evening.  Mrs.  Hayne  wanted  me  to 
come  over  to  supper  and  we  would  both  go.  "And  I'll 
see  you  home,"  said  Chris,  "if  you  can't  stay  all  night." 

I  kissed  father  and  went  away.  We  had  grown  so 
much  more  caressing  since  his  hurt.  There  was 
another  neighbor  in  to  tea.  We  started  early  and  it 


222         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

was  well  we  did,  for  before  service  time  the  church  was 
packed. 

As  I  said,  I  liked  the  full,  hearty  singing.  The 
strange  clergyman  had  a  rather  imposing  presence.  I 
may  as  well  confess  that  I  was  not  particularly  fond 
of  sermons,  but  after  a  little  I  became  strangely  inter 
ested  in  this.  There  was  the  heroic  self-sacrifice  in  it 
that  appeals  strongly  to  youth,  taking  up  the  duty  set 
plainly  before  one  and  not  making  mean  and  shifty 
evasions.  But  unless  the  sacrifice  or  the  work  had 
some  high  purpose  in  view  for  God  or  the  neighbor,  it 
was  in  vain  and  useless.  We  were  to  help  in  the  daily 
life  that  God  gave  us,  to  live  out  at  our  very  best  and 
truest.  Simply  praying  for  our  neighbor  was  not  all, 
when  there  was  something  to  do. 

I  think  I  lost  sight  of  the  spiritual  application.  I 
kept  looking  at  a  thing  that  seemed  set  before  me  to 
do,  and  it  grew  clearer  and  clearer  even  if  I  did 
shrink  from  it.  I  was  to  trust  to  the  promise — "My 
grace  shall  be  sufficient."  I  was  moved,  exalted.  I 
can  do  the  sermon  no  sort  of  justice,  but  every  one  for 
weeks  afterward  talked  of  it,  and  Chris  was  most 
enthusiastic. 

When  we  came  home  father  and  Dan  were  playing 
checkers,  and  they  were  both  excellent  players.  Father 
held  up  his  finger  and  merely  nodded  to  Chris,  who 
said  good-night,  for  he  knew  how  Dan  hated  to  be 
interrupted  in  a  game.  I  came  and  stood  by  them. 
This  was  the  rubber,  each  had  won  one  game.  They 
were  almost  at  the  last  and  so  evenly  balanced  that  it 
seemed  to  me  there  was  something  more  at  stake 


A  TURN   IN  THE   LANE  223 

than  a  mere  king  row.  A  human  soul  was  to  be 
crowned  or —  Is  there  such  a  determining  power  as 
fate  ?  If  father  won  I  should  be  free,  if  Dan,  I  should, 
I  must  be  his  wife.  I  watched  with  strained  eyes.  Fin 
gers  were  hardly  touched,  then  lifted.  Father's  fore 
head  seemed  gathered  in  a  knot,  Dan's  face  was  smil 
ing  with  that  wonderful  ease  he  had,  the  French  call  it 
insouciance.  Father  moved — Dan's  last  man  went  into 
the  king  row,  and  Dan  smiled  over  at  me. 


CHAPTER  XV 

HOW  MUCH  WAS  LOVE? 

WE  went  on  just  the  same  for  a  week  or  two,  friendly, 
pleasant,  but  some  influence  I  could  not  shake  off  drew 
me  nearer.  Even  now  I  suppose  Dan  was  a  fascinating 
man,  since  girls  yielded  so  readily  to  his  sway  and  older 
women  made  friends  with  him. 

It  was  the  full  of  the  harvest  moon,  a  magnificent, 
glowing  night.  There  were  some  corn-husking  bees 
to  wind  up  with  a  dance  in  a  new  barn.  There  were 
boats  going  out  rowing,  for  the  lake  was  like  a  sea  of 
glass.  Dan  really  hated  the  water — I  loved  it  dearly, 
but  the  great  lake  was  occasionally  deceitful  at  its 
blandest,  and  often  a  monster  in  its  power  to  small 
craft.  The  larger  vessels  were  safe  enough.  Father 
and  I  took  a  sail  now  and  then,  but  Dan  never  went  for 
pleasure. 

"Ruth,"  he  said  this  evening,  "do  you  remember  the 
ride  you  once  had  on  Chita?  Come  out  and  take  an 
other.  There  may  not  be  a  night  like  this  in  a  year 
again." 

"Oh,  I  was  such  a  little  girl  then.  And  we  cannot 
both  ride  her  now,"  I  protested. 


HOW  MUCH  WAS   LOVE?  225 

"Why  not?"  In  the  moon  floods  of  light  his  eyes 
transfixed  me. 

"Because  I  am  so  much  larger.  And  you  have  grown 
stouter." 

He  laughed.  "See  here,"  and  catching  me  with  one 
hand  he  whirled  me  off  the  steps  and  clear  around. 

"You  weigh  about  seventy-five  pounds,"  gravely. 
"If  I  asked  Chita  to  carry  seventy-five  pounds  of  grain 
and  my  stoutness  she  would  go  off  like  a  bird." 

"I  weigh  ninety-two,"  I  returned  with  dignity. 

"If  it  was  ninety-four  you  would  have  to  ride  all  the 
same,"  in  a  determined  tone.  "Do  you  want  anything 
about  you?  But  it  is  like  a  summer  night.  Come,  I 
told  your  father  I  was  going  to  take  you.  Or  would 
you  rather  go  to  the  dance?" 

"Suppose  I  would?"  I  said  saucily. 

"We  could  go  to  the  dance  afterward." 

For  a  week  we  had  gone  on  as  if  nothing  had  hap 
pened.  But  every  day  the  duty  had  grown  clearer  to 
me.  Here  was  the  son  father  needed.  I  could  make 
all  of  his  life  easier.  He  was  the  dearest  person  in  the 
world  to  me,  and  why  should  I  not  think  of  him  first? 
There  seemed  two  sides  to  me,  which  there  would  not 
have  been  if  I  had  loved  and  understood  truly  what 
marriage  meant,  that  it  was  not  all  father's  comfort  and 
interest. 

"Come."  He  sprang  on  Chita.  Then  he  made  a 
sudden  decisive  motion  with  his  arm,  and  gathered  me 
up  in  front  of  him. 

"I  should  have  a  pillion,"  I  began  complainingly. 

"I  want  you  here,  just  here,  where  I  can  see  you  and 


226          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

cannot  lose  you.  If  I  did,  your  father  would  beat  out 
my  brains  with  his  crutch,  and  I  would  deserve  it. 
There,  are  you  comfortable?" 

He  settled  me  and  placed  his  arm  tightly  about  me, 
turning  Chita  with  his  right  hand. 

"I  am  very  uncomfortable,"  I  retorted  petulantly. 

"You  won't  mind  it  in  a  moment  when  we  get  out 
of  this  beastly  street." 

"Oh,  don't !"  I  tried  to  loosen  his  arm.  "I  can't  get 
my  breath.  I  don't  want  to  go." 

"Will  that  do?  I  want  you  to  be  comfortable  and 
happy.  Five  different  girls  have  asked  me  to  the  dance 
to-night.  Four  of  them  would  have  been  miserable  if 
I  had  confined  my  attentions  to  one,  and  the  whole  five 
would  have  been  indignant  if  I  had  distributed  them  im 
partially.  And  you  are  ungrateful." 

Something  in  his  tone  touched  me.  After  a  pause 
he  said,  "And  you  have  them  all.  Ruth,  I  want  you 
to  love  me  with  your  whole  soul  and  body.  I  want  you 
to  marry  me." 

"There  is  Miss  Campbell  and  Miss  Conover.  Think 
how  much  finer  looking  they  are.  Oh,  I  can't  think 
why  you  should  want  to  marry  me." 

"Well,  queer  as  it  may  seem,  and  indifferent  as  you 
are  now,  there  are  some  other  points.  I  want  you. 
I've  resolved  to  win  you,  and  shall  do  my  best.  And 
your  father  needs  my  assistance,  may  for  some  time  to 
come.  Can't  we  three  pull  together  ?  You  are  not  old 
enough  to  have  loved  any  one  else,  you  don't  know  any 
thing  about  love,  you  little  white  blossom,  so  I  shall 
teach  you.  Your  father  has  consented." 


HOW  MUCH  WAS    LOVE?  227 

I  felt  as  if  a  net  was  drawn  around  me.  Did  I  want 
to  escape  and  leave  father  to  suffer  all  sorts  of  anx 
ieties?  Here  was  some  one  strong  enough,  willing 
enough  to  shoulder  them. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — I  don't  know !" 

"You  don't  love  Ben,"  he  declared  fiercely.  "It 
would  be  folly  to  wait  all  those  years." 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  I  cried: 

"And  mother  had  a  half  hope  Homer  would  wait 
for  you.  You  see  I  know  the  family  plans.  Chris  is 
too  young  even  for  you  to  wait." 

There  was  another.  But  it  might  be  years  before  we 
should  see  him.  And  he  would  have  changed  in  all 
that  grand  life.  He  was  learning  so  much  that  we  com 
mon  people  would  seem  beneath  him. 

"Chita!"     How  tender  the  tone  was! 

At  the  word  she  was  off,  for  we  had  left  the  crooked, 
uneven  streets  behind  us.  What  a  night  it  was !  You 
could  see  the  mountains  of  the  moon  traced  out  in 
vague  darkness,  and  the  rest  in  glorious  effulgence. 
Some  planets  were  visible,  but  she  seemed  to  outshine 
the  starry  crowd,  and  veil  the  blue  of  the  sky  in  a  silver 
haze.  Great  far  reaches  of  prairie  like  a  sea,  the  stubble 
holding  a  gem  on  every  little  twig.  From  somewhere 
came  a  waft  of  wild  grape,  but  it  was  so  dry  there  was 
very  little  dew.  The  crunch  of  Chita's  hoofs  made  a 
regular  beat  of  music,  but  around  all  was  a  hush  of 
emptiness,  a  kind  of  mystery  that  allured  yet  filled  one 
with  terror  at  its  very  solemnity,  an  atmosphere  of 
strange  enchantment,  as  if  one  could  ride  on  to  another 
world.  Was  I  going  on  to  a  strange  new  world?" 


228         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Isn't  it  splendid !  I  sometimes  come  out  here  alone, 
in  fact,  though  I've  ridden  children  on  Chita,  I've  never 
taken  one  of  the  older  girls  out  in  this  boundless  soli 
tude.  Chita  and  I  keep  our  secrets  together.  What 
do  you  suppose  is  beyond?  Oh,  must  every  one  die 
in  the  end  and  go  to  that  strange  country?  Wouldn't 
you  hate  to  die,  Little  Girl?  I  want  a  long  life  of 
pleasure  and  love,  and  business  activities  and  money 
making,  and  I  wish  I  could  never  grow  old.  Why 
can't  one  slough  off  the  old  body  when  it  gets  feeble, 
and  have  a  new  vigorous  one  right  here,  with  this 
glorious  life.  What  do  we  know  about  any  other 
world?" 

I  was  transfixed  by  some  subtle  power.  Indeed,  I 
hardly  knew  what  he  said  half  the  time,  I  was  so 
penetrated  by  some  strange  influence.  I  thought  I 
would  like  to  be  in  that  other  country  and  have  no  more 
perplexities. 

We  turned  at  length,  and  for  the  first  part  went  like 
the  wind.  Was  Chita  a  creature  of  steel  nerves  and 
sinews  ?  I  caught  Dan's  arm. 

"Are  you  afraid?  Ruth,  I  wouldn't  have  any  harm 
come  to  you  for  my  own  life.  And  what  is  there  about 
you,  slim  little  thing,  only  half  awake  to  the  real  mean 
ings  of  life !  But  you  will  know  them  all  some  day,  and 
I  shall  be  your  teacher." 

How  exultant  his  tone  was ! 

When  we  reached  home  father  was  in  bed,  tired  and 
lonely  was  all  he  would  admit.  Dan  was  very  eager  to 
know  if  he  could  do  anything,  but  father  said  no,  he 
had  some  bad  twinges  in  his  hip  and  back,  and  Jolette 


HOW   MUCH  WAS   LOVE?  219 

had  heated  some  flannels  in  whiskey  and  laid  them  on. 
He  would  soon  fall  asleep  and  forget  it. 

"He  was  around  a  little  too  much  to-day,"  said 
Dan. 

I  went  to  the  door  with  him  and  he  almost  crushed 
me  in  his  arms  and  kissed  away  my  breath.  I  felt  help 
less  in  this  vehemence,  yet  I  had  to  admit  now  that  he 
was  my  lover,  would  one  day  be  my  husband.  Could 
I  be  as  glad  and  happy  as  most  of  the  girls 
were? 

I  went  back  to  father's  bedside.  Oh,  what  should 
I  ever  do  without  him.  Yes,  it  was  my  duty  to  do 
what  I  could  for  his  comfort.  That  thought  inspired 
me.  To  prolong  his  life! 

I  was  not  altogether  a  meek  sweetheart.  There  were 
times  when  I  feared  and  resented  Dan's  assumed 
authority.  Once  I  said,  in  some  rather  heated  argu 
ment: 

"Oh,  I  am  not  compelled  to  marry  you.  I  might 
say  no,  even  when  the  minister  asked  me." 

"You  will  love  me  so  much  by  that  time  you  will  not 
want  to,"  and  his  laugh  was  tantalizing. 

He  took  it  for  granted  that  I  should  love  him  even  as 
he  desired.  I  would  not  have  any  one  told,  even  his 
mother,  and  I  declared  I  was  not  engaged  until  I  had 
promised  to  marry  him.  I  think  now  he  liked  the 
secrecy.  It  did  not  make  any  outward  change  in  my 
life.  I  had  a  number  of  my  young  friends  in  on  my 
birthday.  I  was  sixteen  and  we  had  a  merry  time. 
Father  brought  out  some  of  his  best  quips  and  told 
some  funny  Yankee  stories. 


230        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"You'll  have  a  better  time  without  me,"  Dan  said, 
and  I  think  /  did.  There  was  no  need  of  self-con 
sciousness  or  embarrassment. 

Father  had  a  new  plan  that  interested  him  strongly. 
This  was  building  a  house  for  me,  for  us  all,  but  it  was 
to  be  mine,  farther  away  from  the  river,  nearer  the 
lake  and  on  higher  ground.  It  was  afterward  to  be 
Washington  Square.  He  had  taken  quite  a  plot  of 
ground  there  a  year  or  so  before  he  was  hurt,  in  the 
way  of  trade.  We  had  a  good  deal  of  amusement 
planning  it.  It  was  to  be  of  brick,  full  two  stories,  but 
with  a  peaked  roof.  He  would  have  two  rooms  on  the 
lower  floor,  a  sort  of  office  and  a  sleeping-room.  We 
would  have  a  real  parlor,  a  dining-room — living-room 
we  called  it  then — and  a  commodious  kitchen.  There 
was  room  for  a  vegetable  garden,  a  hennery,  and  some 
flowers.  Pigs  were  at  last  debarred  from  the  streets. 
Father  raised  so  many  now  that  he  had  a  separate  en 
closure.  Some  people  were  trying  to  raise  sheep 
and  making  quite  a  success,  only  there  were  at  times 
forays  of  wolves,  when  every  one  turned  out  for 
a  wolf  hunt. 

The  old  house  was  to  be  built  on  and  turned  into 
stores.  Business  was  increasing  on  every  side.  The 
terms  of  peace  with  Mexico  was  arranged  early  in  the 
new  year.  For  the  territory  ceded  we  were  to  pay 
fifteen  millions.  There  were  bitter  arguments  pro  and 
con.  One  party  was  resolutely  against  our  having  any 
more  land,  we  were  large  enough  now,  we  had  not 
settled  half  the  country  we  did  own.  The  other  side 
pointed  out  the  advantage  the  Louisiana  purchase  had 


HOW   MUCH  WAS   LOVE?  231 

been.  Of  course  we  needed  the  Mississippi  River,  but 
this  wild  land,  overrun  with  Mexicans  and  Indians, 
would  be  more  plague  than  profit. 

Father  was  in  favor  of  having  all  we  could  get. 

The  spring  came  early  that  year.  We  had  dis 
covered  in  our  county  a  fine  bed  of  clay  and  were 
making  brick.  All  our  lumber  had  to  be  brought  from 
a  distance. 

I  liked  the  new  situation  very  much,  only  it  was  so 
far  from  the  dear  old  friends.  But  it  would  be  more 
convenient  for  father,  and  he  had  faith  that  the  city 
would  push  up  this  way.  We  could  see  the  lake,  there 
were  so  few  houses  between. 

I  said  first  I  would  not  be  married  until  I  was  in  the 
new  house,  but  there  were  reasons  why  it  seemed  best 
not  to  wait,  and  when  people  once  began  to  suspect 
Dan  admitted  the  truth.  We  told  his  mother  first  of 
all,  and  her  joy  really  brought  tears  to  my  eyes. 

"I  have  always  coveted  you,"  she  confessed,  "though 
I  should  have  picked  out  any  one  of  them  sooner  than 
Dan,  but  I  think  he  has  about  sowed  all  his  wild  oats, 
and  you  and  your  father  will  be  a  sort  of  ballast.  I  used 
to  think  you  and  Norman  would  make  a  match,  but 
he's  so  weaned  away,  and  he  never  could  content  him 
self  here,  I  know.  I  expect  to  hear  in  every  letter  that 
he  has  married  a  grand  lady.  I  suppose  you  could 
have  waited  for  Ben,  but  that  would  have  taken 
years.  Dan  does  love  you." 

I  had  never  thought  of  marrying  Norman,  for  when 
I  was  old  enough  to  speculate  on  such  matters,  I  felt 
he  had  gone  to  the  higher  round  above  me  in  educa- 


232        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN   OLD  CHICAGO 

tion,  accomplishments,  and  I  was  afraid  he  would 
despise  the  crude,  unhandsome  town  after  the  splendid 
cities  of  the  Old  World.  That  was  something  out  of 
my  reach,  so  I  could  love  the  old  life  with  him  in  it  like 
a  story  where  the  incidents  and  characters  were  firmly 
enwrought  in  one's  mind. 

Our  courtship  had  been  rather  curious.  At  times 
Dan's  impetuousity  swept  me  off  my  bearings  and  I 
could  do  nothing  but  yield.  I  had  a  vague  feeling  it 
was  his  overpowering  domination,  rather  than  any 
thing  I  wanted  to  give.  There  were  moments  when  it 
seemed  as  if  I  did  not  like  love,  and  would  fain  run 
anywhere  to  escape  it.  Since  father  was  very  well  con 
tent  I  would  make  myself  so.  And  Mother  Hayne 
said  laughingly — "Men  get  over  this  tremendous  love 
making  after  marriage  and  settle  down  into  reasonable 
beings." 

Father  said  we  would  get  all  the  furnishing  stuff 
when  we  were  in  the  new  house.  We  could  tell  better 
what  we  wanted. 

I  wished  I  had  the  courage  to  be  married  in  church 
with  the  ceremony  Sophie  had.  But  I  was  not  a 
Catholic,  and  I  should  have  had  to  fight  for  such  a 
thing.  Dan  wanted  to  be  married  quietly  at  home. 
But  I  coaxed  Mother  Hayne  over  to  my  views,  and  we 
settled  upon  the  old  Methodist  Church. 

"I  shall  be  married  there  or  not  at  all !"  I  said  to  Dan 
decidedly. 

So  we  were  married  in  the  new  Methodist  Church  on 
Washington  Street,  at  noon,  and  I  had  three  brides 
maids.  My  gown  was  white  Suisse  with  plenty  of 


HOW  MUCH  WAS  LOVE?  233 

lace,  and  Dan  gave  a  dinner  at  the  hotel.  It  was  very 
merry  and  pleasant.  Healths  were  proffered,  good 
wishes  and  kisses,  for  everybody  kissed  a  bride  then. 
I  think  Dan  glowered  a  little  over  this.  He  had  to  take 
a  good  deal  of  chaffing  and  I  was  advised  to  "keep  him 
with  a  pretty  tight  rein  and  make  him  toe  the  mark." 
There  was  the  old  joke  of  starting  him  out  in  the 
morning  to  kindle  the  fire,  and  having  him  split  the 
kindlings  and  bring  the  water. 

The  infare  was  to  be  at  our  new  house,  and  invita 
tions  were  scattered  freely. 

I  wondered  if  there  were  any  heart  burnings  among 
the  girls.  I  did  not  feel  at  all  elated  that  I  had  cap 
tured  him.  Rather  he  had  captured  me.  I  could  say 
honestly  I  had  never  made  an  effort. 

Then  we  returned  home  to  our  little  old  house  and 
had  to  take  a  horrible  serenade.  Dan  went  out  and 
made  a  speech,  gave  the  ringleader  of  the  party  some 
money  and  quiet  was  restored. 

A  fortnight  after  that  we  moved.  Dan's  mother 
gave  him  a  feather  bed  and  pillows,  two  heavy  blank 
ets  and  two  light  ones  and  six  teaspoons  that  had  been 
her  mother's.  She  thought  the  oldest  son  ought  to  have 
them,  and  a  tablecloth  that  had  been  in  her  wedding 
outfit. 

The  new  house  was  very  nice  and  comfortable,  but 
a  modern  bride  would  have  rather  disdained  it.  The 
infare  was  a  success.  After  that  we  were  let  to  go  our 
way,  for  there  were  several  other  brides,  Miss  Camp 
bell  being  one,  and  she  had  married  a  promising  young 
lawyer. 


234         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Father  improved  a  good  deal  that  summer.  Jolette 
had  gone  with  us  and  there  was  a  half -grown  boy  who 
did  chores,  worked  in  the  garden  and  went  home 
nights. 

Before  father  had  finished  his  stores  he  was  offered 
such  an  advantageous  price  for  them  that  he  sold  and 
reinvested  in  land  farther  out.  Dan  hardly  considered 
that  wise. 

"Everybody  thought  I  was  bit  with  the  old  Towner 
place,"  and  father  laughed.  "The  city  is  going  to 
stretch  out,  and  the  lake  shore  is  going  to  be  valuable." 
"Was  I  happy  and  in  love?"  Truly  I  could  not  tell. 
I  counted  on  the  time  when  Dan's  vehemence  should  be 
toned  down.  He  bought  a  pretty  new  horse,  broken 
for  a  lady's  riding,  and  we  used  to  have  splendid  gal 
lops. 

Norman  Hayne  was  travelling  in  Prussia  and  Russia. 
Ben  entered  Harvard.  I  think  he  did  not  altogether 
approve  my  marriage,  but  I  gave  him  good  reasons  for 
it.  Homer  had  a  little  son.  Everybody  seemed  pros 
perous,  though  there  were  troublous  times  about  money. 
The  world  was  set  ablaze  then  about  the  wonderful 
discovery  of  gold  in  California,  the  dream  of  the  old 
Spanish  explorers.  Men  rushed  to  the  gold  fields  in 
perfect  armies.  And  now  we  felt  as  a  nation  there 
was  a  great  deal  of  grandeur  in  owning  from  ocean  to 
ocean.  Marvels  were  told  of  the  western  coast. 

I  settled  down  into  a  housewifely  body.    Father  said 
now  and  then,  "Oh,  that  is  so  like  your  mother." 

He  could  not  discard  his  crutches.    He  still  kept  up 
his  interest  in  the  Prairie  Farmer,  and  had  begun  to 


HOW   MUCH  WAS  LOVE?  235 

write  other  articles.  The  water  works  were  occupying 
a  good  deal  of  attention.  The  lead  mines  were  inex 
haustible.  Yet  it  took  almost  a  week  to  get  to  New 
York.  The  Illinois  and  Michigan  canal  was  opened. 
There  were  some  brick  buildings,  and  two  aristocratic 
blue  limestone  ones  that  were  pointed  out  as  curiosities, 
having  been  built  of  stone  that  had  been  brought  in 
ballast  from  the  lower  lakes.  Michigan  Avenue  that 
was. 

The  Chicago  River  was  being  widened.  Sidewalks 
were  laid  as  the  streets  were  filled  up.  Old  Chicago 
was  passing  away,  just  as  the  Little  Girl  had  vanished, 
though  father  often  used  the  name.  Dan  had  given  me 
all  sorts  of  pet  names  at  first,  then  he  settled  down  to 
Ruth. 

And  so  a  year  passed,  two  years.  Dan  was  much 
interested  in  city  affairs,  father  was  making  money  in 
the  old  ways.  We  had  settled  down,  and  I  supposed  I 
had  all  the  happiness  that  comes  to  married  life.  No, 
not  all.  There  was  no  child  to  gladden  our  hearts  and 
draw  us  together.  Homer  had  another  little  boy. 

In  the  third  year  of  our  married  life  an  incident  hap 
pened  that,  perhaps,  was  an  entering  wedge  in  the  dis 
satisfaction  that  came  afterwards.  One  day  father  re 
ceived  a  letter  from  a  cousin  who  had  married  another 
cousin  by  the  name  of  Gaynor.  She  had  been  left  a 
widow  some  years  before.  The  homestead  had  been 
willed  to  the  eldest  son,  subject  to  her  life-right  in  four 
rooms  one  side  of  the  hall,  and  her  living  from  the  farm. 
The  three  daughters  between  had  married,  there  was 
one  son,  now  sixteen,  who  did  not  get  on  at  all  well 


236          A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

with  his  elder  brother.  He  was  a  smart,  bright  boy, 
with  a  fair  education.  Now,  he  was  wild  to  go  to 
California,  but  she  could  not  bear  to  think  of  the  rough 
life  and  the  temptations,  so  she  was  emboldened  to  write 
to  her  cousin,  who  she  heard  had  done  well  in  Chicago. 
"Could  he  put  John  in  the  way  of  anything?" 

There  was  an  appeal  to  old  memories  that  touched 
me.  Father  so  seldom  mentioned  his  people. 

"That's  queer,  isn't  it?"  he  said,  looking  up  with  a 
dry  sort  of  smile.  "John  Gaynor!  Why,  I  had  for 
gotten  that  I  had  a  namesake." 

"You  might  send  for  him,"  I  suggested.  "Sixteen. 
And  if  he  is  a  nice  boy — why  do  you  give  that  absent 
sort  of  smile?" 

"I  was  thinking.  When  I  was  a  young  fellow  of 
nineteen  or  so  I  fell  headlong  in  love  with  a  second 
cousin,  Sarah  Parks.  She  was  twenty-three.  She  rea 
soned  me  mostly  out  of  it,  and  I  found  she  had  a  fancy 
for  an  own  cousin,  Luther  Gaynor.  So  she  married  him. 
Then  I  went  to  the  western  part  of  the  State,  and  when 
I  had  managed  to  get  a  little  together,  married  your 
mother.  She  sent  me  a  paper  with  a  notice  of  her  hus 
band's  death,  seven  or  eight  years  ago,  and  I  wrote  her 
a  letter.  It  is  odd  how  the  old  things  come  back  to 
you.  I  recovered  from  my  penchant  for  Sarah  when 
she  settled  into  a  regular  common  farmer's  wife." 

"Then  first  love  isn't  always  the  best  or  truest,"  I 
said  thoughtfully. 

"That  wasn't  love,  but  a  boyish  fancy.  I'm  glad 
to  hear,  though.  I  wonder  what  this  young  John  Gay 
nor  is  like  ?" 


HOW    MUCH   WAS   LOVE?  237 

"Suppose  you  do  send  for  him.  If  we  shouldn't  like 
him — but  you  may  find  something  for  him  to  do.  And 
if  he  isn't  worth  anything  you  can  pack  him  off  home 
again." 

"You  can  plan  clear  to  the  end,  Ruth,"  and  he 
laughed.  "Well,  we'll  see." 

Dan  had  gone  to  Galena,  as  he  had  some  lead  inter 
ests.  Mr.  Bayne,  from  the  Farmer,  dropped  in  that 
evening.  After  some  newspaper  talk  he  said: 

"I  don't  suppose  you  know  any  nice,  likely  boy, 
Gaynor,  that  we  could  get  in  the  office  to  learn 
the  trade.  Ours  is  as  slow  as  molasses  in  January, 
and  never  can  learn  to  set  type.  That  Chris  Hayne 
would  be  fine,  but  he  has  his  heart  set  upon  being  a 
parson." 

"Well,  that's  queer !"  Father  looked  at  me  and  made 
a  funny  face.  "I  have  a  namesake  in  Massachusetts 
who  wants  to  come  West." 

"Yankee  boys  are  generally  bright  and  good  spellers. 
You  want  one  in  a  newspaper  office.  If  he's  worth  his 
salt  we'll  take  him,  and  let  him  earn  bread  and  butter 
besides." 

"John  Gaynor.  That's  a  good  solid  name,"  and 
father's  eyes  twinkled  mirthfully. 

"If  he  takes  after  you  he's  just  the  fellow  to  come  to 
Chicago,"  was  the  reply. 

Father  nodded.     "I  guess  I'll  send." 

"Do,  do,"  was  the  eager  response. 

The  very  next  day  father  Hayne  was  taken  violently 
ill.  I  went  down  there  and  found  Sophie  trying  to 
comfort  mother.  What  should  we  do — send  for  Dan  ? 


238        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Wait  until  to-morrow  and  see  what  the  doctor  says," 
returned  the  anxious  wife. 

Two  of  the  neighbors  were  in,  and  I  felt  I  must  go 
home  for  the  night,  as  I  could  be  of  no  real  assistance. 
But  I  was  deeply  troubled. 

The  next  day  we  sent  a  messenger  for  Dan. 

It  did  not  seem  that  a  strong,  hearty  man  could  fail 
so  rapidly.  But  the  disease  was  stronger,  and  in  ten 
days  Homer  Hayne  took  the  last  journey,  and  lay  in 
the  best  room,  dead.  Dan  had  come  home  in  time,  but 
his  father  was  delirious  until  he  went  into  a  stupor,  not 
knowing  any  one  the  last  few  days. 

It  was  a  dreadful  shock  to  us  all.  Poor  mother  was 
beside  herself  with  grief.  There  was  a  very  sympa 
thetic  obituary  notice  in  the  papers.  He  had  been  a 
good,  upright  citizen,  if  he  had  not  filled  a  very  high 
place.  And  he  had  given  the  country  five  fine 
sons. 

"That  of  itself  is  a  great  thing,"  declared  father. 

Sophie  took  the  poor  widow  home  for  a  few  days. 
She  was  the  tenderest  of  daughters.  I  would  have 
been  glad  to  do  it,  but  grandmother  was  so  fond  of  the 
children,  we  thought  they  would  cheer  her. 

We  wondered  what  she  would  like  to  do. 

"Oh,  I  must  keep  my  own  home,"  she  said.  "I  have 
Chris  left." 

"Yes,"  determined  Dan.  "That  is  best  for  the  pres 
ent.  Father  did  not  make  a  will,  but  not  one  of  us 
would  be  mean  enough  to  want  to  rob  her  of  her  home. 
She  worked  for  it  as  well  as  father." 

I  was  glad  to  hear  him  say  that. 


HOW  MUCH  WAS   LOVE?  239 

Mrs.  Gaynor  had  not  answered  the  letter.  There 
had  been  such  a  sort  of  upheaval  it  had  gone  out  of  my 
mind.  So  I  was  mightily  surprised  when  I  came  home 
one  morning  from  some  trading  to  see  a  young  fellow 
sitting  on  the  porch  with  father,  and  hear  him  say : 

"Ruth,  this  is  John  Gaynor." 

A  nice,  wholesome  youth,  between  boy  and  man,  with 
a  fair,  clean  skin,  rather  light  blue  eyes,  but  with  quite 
deep  eyelashes  and  brows,  and  light  brown  hair,  not 
with  a  decided  golden  tint,  but  giving  the  effect  of 
having  gold  dust  sprinkled  over  it.  Not  especially 
handsome,  yet  not  plain,  bright  and  intelligent. 

He  rose  and  shook  hands  with  me.  I  liked  him  on 
the  spot. 

"I  see  I  have  taken  you  by  surprise.  Cousin  Gay- 
nor's  letter  was  so  cordial  that  mother  thought  I  had 
better  start  at  once.  I  should  get  here  about  as  soon 
as  an  answer,  as  I  have  been  explaining.  I  owe  you  a 
thousand  thanks  for  your  welcome." 

"The  thanks  are  mostly  due  to  father,"  I  returned. 
"I  am  very  glad  you  have  come.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  feel 
that  there  is  some  one  in  the  world  really  related  to  us. 
Did  you  get  here  without  any  difficulty?" 

"I  did  not  have  much,  and  I  met  with  some  enter 
taining  fellow  travellers.  Mother  said  I  had  a  tongue 
in  my  head  and  that  I  ought  to  have  enough  wit  in  my 
brain  to  ask  needful  questions.  What  a  wonderful 
country  it  is!  I  am  full  of  astonishment." 

I  smiled,  the  tone  was  so  frank,  one  of  those  full 
round  tones  that  inspire  confidence.  But  I  had  to  ex 
cuse  myself  and  interview  Jolette  about  the  dinner. 


240          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

When  I  returned  he  and  father  were  in  full  tide 
about  relatives  who  had  died,  and  who  had  married, 
who  had  gone  away,  and  about  his  own  sisters, 
married  to  farmers  and  interested  in  their  own  lives. 
It  seemed  delightful,  as  if  one  was  reading  an  enter 
taining  book. 

Dan  did  not  come  home  to  dinner,  he  often  took  it 
at  the  nearest  hotel  when  he  was  busy.  After  father's 
rest  we  had  the  carriage  ordered  up  and  took  a  drive 
first  along  the  shore  of  the  magnificent  lake,  then  over 
in  the  prairies.  There  were  acres  and  acres  of  corn 
standing  in  ranks,  their  feathery  golden  helmets  blow 
ing  about,  their  uniform  of  richest  green  dazzling  in 
the  sunlight.  They  looked  so  strong,  so  masterful, 
almost  as  if  they  might  start,  and  march  you  down 
with  human  power.  The  boy  was  wild  with  en 
thusiasm.  It  had  an  odd  effect  upon  father.  His 
eyes  brightened,  the  set  lines  in  his  face  seemed 
to  fill  out,  he  looked  glad  and  happy,  and  it  thrilled 
me  in  every  nerve.  I  did  love  him  so  in  his  misfor 
tune. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Dan  came 
home.  I  had  been  arranging  the  supper  table  between 
whiles  looking  after  some  choice  cookery  I  did  not 
want  to  trust  altogether  to  Jolette.  He  walked 
straight  in. 

"Who's  that  on  the  stoop  hobnobbing  with  your 
father?"  he  asked  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  Dan,  it's  a  new  John  Gaynor  from  father's  old 
State,  and  it's  so  queer  how  it  all  came  about,"  glanc 
ing  up  eagerly. 


HOW   MUCH  WAS    LOVE?  241 

I  began  at  the  very  beginning,  the  letter  from  Mrs. 
Gaynor. 

"Well,  I  think  I  might  have  been  informed  of  the 
matter  instead  of  having  it  kept  a  secret  from  me,"  he 
exclaimed  resentfully. 

"But,  Dan,  you  see  you  were  at  Galena,  and  then 
your  father  was  so  ill  and  all  that.  It  really  went  out 
of  my  mind.  Father  supposed  Mrs.  Gaynor  would 
write  again." 

"Did  your  father  send  for  that  fellow?"  His  tone 
was  stern  and  there  was  an  angry  flash  in  his  eye.  It 
roused  resentment  within  me. 

"He  did,"  I  answered  bravely,  but  with  some  trepi 
dation  of  heart.  Then  I  explained  Mr.  Bayne's  call 
that  evening  and  the  proffer  of  the  situation. 

"Well,  I  like  that!  To  have  some  other  people's 
relations  dumped  upon  you  in  this  secret,  underhand 
fashion." 

I  stood  up  very  straight  and  glanced; in  Dan's  eyes. 
"I  suppose  father  has  a  right  to  ask  a  relative  to  his 
own  house,"  I  said  with  dignity. 

Dan  flushed  and  his  brow  was  one  sharp  frown. 

"I  thought  the  house  was  to  be  yours,"  he  made 
answer  in  a  biting  tone.  "And  I  did  suppose  your 
husband  had  some  rights  in  it!" 

"Oh,  Dan,  don't  let  us  quarrel  about  the  house  or 
this  young  cousin  or  anything.  Nothing  must  come 
between  our  love  for  each  other,"  I  implored,  throwing 
my  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissing  him.  Then  I 
knew  he  had  been  drinking. 

Perhaps  he  felt  ashamed.    "I'm  not  quarrelling,"  he 


242        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

said  gruffly.  "But  a  man  does  hate  to  find  that  his 
wife  has  kept  secrets  from  him  for  weeks  and  weeks." 

I  had  explained  the  whole  matter  and  it  was  useless 
to  reiterate  it.  But  I  did  say — "Young  John  Gaynor 
needn't  live  here,  you  know." 

He  made  no  answer  but  went  to  his  room  to  fix  up 
for  supper. 

I  could  feel  that  father  was  hurt  and  amazed  by  his 
indifference  at  the  table,  which  went  almost  to  the 
verge  of  rudeness.  Afterward  he  took  his  hat  and 
marched  out.  I  tried  to  make  amends.  I  felt  fie  would 
not  have  acted  so  if  he  had  been  perfectly  sober. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

HER  RIVALS 

OF  course  we  kept  our  guest  all  night.  It  was  mid 
night  when  Dan  came  home,  and  I  pretended  to  be 
asleep.  But  he  was  quite  cheerful  the  next  morning. 
Chicago  people  were  generally  hospitable.  There  were 
new  families  coming  in  almost  penniless,  one  may 
say,  and  they  were  helped  upon  their  feet  in  the  friend 
liest  manner.  It  had  seemed  to  me  that  Dan  had  a 
large  and  generous  soul,  but  he  did  not  show  it  now.  I 
felt  heartbroken. 

We  were  to  go  down  to  the  newspaper  office.  John 
thought  he  should  like  that  above  all  things. 

"I've  never  had  half  a  chance  at  books,"  John  said 
laughingly.  "I  had  about  made  up  my  mind  to  study 
and  get  a  district  school.  In  a  certain  way  I  like  farm 
ing,  but  it's  not  so  easy  in  our  old  State.  Here  it  must 
be  splendid,  inspiring !  But  a  newspaper !  That  looks 
like  fairyland  to  me.  Cousin  Ruth,  I'm  like  a  girl  about 
fairy  stories  and  King  Arthur  and  Odin  and  all  those 
old  heroes." 

That  sounded  like  Norman,  and  warmed  my  inmost 
heart. 


244        A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Fortunately  we  found  Mr.  Bayne  and  Mr.  Wight 
both  in.  I  think  they  were  quite  taken  with  young 
John.  I  wondered  at  his  sort  of  aplomb  for  a  country 
lad.  He  was  no  braggart,  but  he  did  seem  to  have  a 
clear  estimate  of  himself,  and  to  most  questions  he  said 
so  cheerfully—  "I'd  like  to  learn." 

The  upshot  of  it  was  that  he  was  to  come  for  a  week 
and  try.  Then  Mr.  Wight  talked  about  Chris.  Being 
a  clergyman  himself,  he  was  taking  a  fervent  interest 
in  the  lad. 

We  let  father  go  home,  and  we  took  a  walk  about 
old  Fort  Dearborn,  and  talked  western  history,  which 
interested  him  very  much,  as  he  had  only  the  vaguest 
idea  about  the  West.  In  spite  of  last  evening,  I  had  a 
light-hearted  feeling,  as  if  I  was  the  Little  Girl  of  the 
past  going  about  with  Norman. 

On  our  homeward  way,  just  as  I  attempted  to  cross 
the  street,  a  carriage  halted.  There  were  two  women 
in  it,  and  one  leaned  out  calling  to  me  laughingly — 
"Ruth  Gaynor— Ruth  Hayne!" 

I  drew  a  long  breath  of  utter  amazement,  and  simply 
stared.  But  for  thin,  pale  Mrs.  Morrison  I  certainly 
should  not  have  recognized  Polly.  She  was  a  hand 
some  woman  and  dressed  in  the  richest  manner.  She 
seemed  all  of  a  glitter  from  her  shining,  rippling  hair, 
the  bronze  feathers  blowing  about  her  hat,  the  cloud  of 
lace  around  her  neck  with  gold  threads  in  it,  and  the 
glistening  silk  gown.  On  her  one  bare  hand  shone  a 
circlet  of  diamonds,  on  her  wrist  a  bracelet. 

"Oh,"  I  ejaculated,  drawing  in  a  long  breath  of 
surprise. 


HER    RIVALS  245 

"If  you  had  met  me  in  a  pudding  pot  you  wouldn't 
have  known  me,"  and  she  laughed  with  an  amused 
gayety.  "You  might  get  stirred  up  in  the  mush,  but  I 
wouldn't,  I'm  too  large." 

"Polly  Morrison,"  was  all  I  could  say. 

"I  came  yesterday  afternoon.  This  is  my  first  visit 
home,  though  I've  trotted  up  and  down  the  Missis 
sippi  until  I  know  every  turn  and  every  town.  I  have 
a  husband  who  hardly  lets  me  out  of  his  sight  and  he 
has  never  found  it  convenient  to  come  to  Chicago. 
Perhaps  he  is  afraid  he  might  see  some  other  woman 
he  would  like  for  a  wife,  he  had  such  astonishing  luck 
before.  And  how  Chicago  has  changed!  All  the  old 
houses  have  been  built  on  to,  and  the  stores  and  ware 
houses!  It  can't  hold  a  candle  to  New  Orleans,  and 
Kaskaskia  is  a  gay  old  town,  but  you're  coming  on. 
Is  this  Chris?" 

"No,"  and  I  explained. 

"We're  just  out  for  a  flyer.  I  took  mother  along 
so  that  people  would  be  the  more  likely  to  recognize 
me.  This  afternoon  we  must  go  calling.  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  stay  at  home  and  let  the  neighbors  call  on  me, 
but  I  want  to  see  them  so.  And  poor  Mrs.  Hayne  is  a 
widow.  Ben  gone  off  to  college,  is  it?  Homer  get 
ting  rich  and  peopling  the  town,  but  the  other  one  is 
abroad — married  to  some  French  marquise,  I  suppose, 
and  Chris  going  to  be  a  minister.  Lots  of  other 
changes.  There!  You  may  look  to  see  me  some 
day." 

Her  talk  had  been  a  swift  dazzle,  and  made  you  feel 
as  if  some  one  had  whirled  you  around. 


246        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"What  a  talker,"  said  John.  "And  what  a  handsome 
woman.  She  looks  fit  to  be  a  queen !" 

We  hurried  home.  I  was  anxious  to  have  the  dinner 
all  right,  and  I  didn't  exactly  want  Dan  to  see  me  com 
ing  home  with  young  John  Gaynor.  Why,  I  could  not 
explain  altogether  to  myself. 

Jolette  was  just  dishing  up  when  Dan  entered.  He 
should  not  accuse  me  of  secrecy  this  time. 

"Oh,  Dan,"  I  cried,  "did  you  see  the  new  arrival, 
not  exactly  in  a  coach  and  four,  but  in  Harman's 
barouche?  Madame  Maseurier  and  her  mother  view 
ing  the  town." 

"Polly  Morrison!"  he  ejaculated.  "How  does  she 
look?"  He  was  all  interest. 

"John  thinks  like  a  queen.  She  is  wonderfully  hand 
some,  or  else  it  is  the  fine  clothes." 

"Come  to  show  them  off,  I  suppose.  The  old  French 
man  with  her?" 

"No.  But  she  said  her  husband  hardly  let  her  out 
of  his  sight." 

"I'd  trust  Polly  for  squeezing  out  some  dark  night 
if  she  wanted  to."  Then  he  gave  his  old,  merry  laugh, 
and  a  good-humored  nod. 

The  dinner  passed  pleasantly.  John  had  a  good  deal 
to  say  about  the  town. 

Dan's  strictures  rankled  in  my  mind.  I  really 
wanted  young  John  to  live  with  us.  I  liked  him  so 
much  already,  as  one  might  regard  a  young  brother, 
indeed  as  I  did  Chris,  only  John  belonged  to  me,  to 
father.  But  I  did  not  want  any  trouble  or  jeal 
ousy. 


HER    RIVALS  247 

The  lad  went  down  to  the  office  the  next  morning, 
taking  some  lunch.  Dan  did  not  ask  about  him.  He 
came  home  very  enthusiastic.  He  had  struck  just  the 
right  thing,  he  was  confident.  And,  grasping  father's 
hands,  he  said  in  his  young,  earnest  voice,  he  could 
never  be  thankful  enough  for  that  cordial  letter  of 
his. 

It  was  the  third  day  later  when  father  was  resting 
after  having  spent  the  morning  in  the  fields,  that  I 
took  my  sewing  and  sat  beside  him.  Presently  I  said 
tentatively : 

"I  am  glad  John  has  taken  such  a  liking  to  the 
printing  office.  What  a  cheerful,  ambitious  fellow  he 
is." 

"A  real  Yankee!"  Father  laughed.  "I  like  him 
very  much.  It  seems  a  whiff  of  my  native  air — of  my 
boyhood's  air.  Only  I  hadn't  the  ambition.  The 
world  was  not  so  ambitious.  People  had  an  idea  in 
those  days  that  God  had  put  you  just  where  He 
wanted  you  to  be,  and  that  it  was  a  sin  to  try  to  get 
elsewhere.  They  didn't  read  the  Bible  right  in  the 
very  beginning,  'Dominion  over  everything'  is  his 
birthright." 

After  a  pause  I  began  in  a  kind  of  indifferent  tone, 
"Do  you  not  think  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  him 
to  board  near  the  office,  where  he  could  run  home  to 
his  dinner?  He  is  a  growing  lad,  and  a  cold  lunch 
doesn't  seem  just  the  thing.  Then  in  winter  there 
will  be  storms  and  awful  going." 

"We're  not  in  winter  now.  What  is  to  hinder  him 
from  staying  until  then?" 


248        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

He  looked  suddenly,  sharply  at  me.  I  felt  the  hot 
blood  rush  to  my  face. 

There  was  a  silence.  The  fresh  wind  off  the  lake 
sang  its  murmuring  song,  and  the  birds  gave  the 
chorus,  but  I  could  feel  the  other  hush. 

"Yes,  what's  to  hinder  ?"  rather  impatiently. 

"I  thought,"  then  my  voice  faltered. 

"Did  Dan  say  anything?  He  doesn't  like  the  boy's 
coming,  I  can  see  that." 

"He  felt  hurt  because  he  had  not  known  about  it. 
So  many  things  happened  just  then " 

"Well,  it  was  rather  queer.  He  might  have  struck 
something  at  home,  and  not  come  at  all.  I  should 
have  felt  like  a  fool  making  a  great  spread  about  it. 
I  did  suppose  his  mother  would  write  again.  But  I 
don't  care  now.  And  the  house  isn't  Dan  Hayne's! 
There's  our  bargain  in  black  and  white.  To  be  sure, 
I  haven't  deeded  it  to  you.  I  started  to  once,  when 
Hamilton  made  a  suggestion " 

"We  have  been  so  happy  and  peaceable." 

"Ruth,"  his  voice  was  low,  and  with  an  inexpressi 
ble  longing,  "I  wish  you  had  a  child  or  children." 

"Oh,  father,  it  has  been  the  one  desire  of  my  heart, 
my  trial,  my  constant  prayer,"  and  I  leaned  my  face 
down  on  his  arm  and  cried  softly. 

Sophie  had  twin  boys  besides  her  other  son  and 
daughter.  Dan  envied  the  twins  with  the  longing  of 
fatherhood.  This  matter  had  been  a  sorrowful  disap 
pointment  to  us  both. 

"There,  dear,"  said  father  presently.  "There  may 
be  some  wise  purpose  in  it  that  we  can't  see  now.  But 


HER    RIVALS  249 

I  don't  say,  like  David,  in  his  prosperity,  "I  shall  never 
be  removed.  Thou,  Lord,  hast  made  my  hill  so 
strong."  I  think  quite  often  of  the  time  when  I  shall 
be  removed.  I'd  like  to  know  that  some  one  of  my 
blood  would  take  a  delight  in  these  broad  prairies  and 
fertile  fields.  It  seems  queer  when  luck  went  against 
me  in  my  early  life  that  I  should  have  so  much  of  it 
now  when  I  am  an  old  lamenter.  Of  course,  Dan  is 
an  excellent  manager,  it's  born  in  him,  but  I  keep 
things  up  sharp  as  well.  This  was  what  Hamilton 
said :  'If  your  daughter  dies  without  children  you  know 
this  goes  to  Mr.  Hayne.  Have  you  no  relative  that 
you  would  like  to  succeed  her  ?'  I  stopped  short  then. 
You  see  Dan  might  marry  again,  and  your  property  go 
to  another  woman's  children." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  Dan,  but  another  woman  and  her 
children — oh,  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  their  living 
in  this  house — the  children  I  have  been  denied,"  and 
I  could  not  stifle  my  sobs. 

"Little  Girl,  you  may  outlive  Dan.  Think  how  his 
father  went,  who  had  never  had  a  day's  illness  in  his 
life  before.  But  one  needs  to  consider  all  the  points. 
So  I  have  been  thinking  this  last  year  if  there  was 
any  one  I  would  like  to  have  succeed  us,  or  if  I  should 
leave  it  to  found  a  hospital,  which  we  shall  need.  I 
couldn't  make  up  my  mind.  I  thought  we  would  talk 
it  over  some  day.  And  now  John  has  come  in  a  sort 
of  miraculous  way.  We  do  not  know  how  he  will 
turn  out  in  the  end — but  I  like  the  name — John 
Gaynor.  Would  you  mind  if  he  came  after 
us?" 


250         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Oh,  I  should  like  it.  Already  he  seems  like  a 
brother." 

"That  is,  if  there  should  be  no  children.  We  needn't 
give  up  hope,"  and  he  smiled  tenderly. 

"Yes,  I  should  like  him  to  come  after  us,"  I  said 
after  some  moments  of  thought. 

"Meanwhile,  if  I  want  to  help  him  out  of  my  part 
of  the  profits,  you  will  not  feel  sore?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  I  returned  earnestly. 

"Of  course  I  want  him  to  make  his  own  way,  it  gives 
a  young  fellow  more  reliance  on  himself.  But  he 
might  as  well  live  here " 

I  was  cut  to  the  heart  with  a  curious  presentiment. 
Dan  would  be  jealous,  I  knew  by  what  he  said  that  first 
night.  If  it  had  been  altogether  the  drink  he  would 
have  met  the  boy  cordially  afterward.  But  he  had  not. 
I  had  never  thought  of  Dan  caring  especially  for 
father's  property,  yet  I  wondered  now  if  he  would  have 
wanted  to  marry  me  if  there  had  been  only  a  trifle. 
As  I  grew  older  I  could  not  understand  why  he  had 
been  so  persistent,  when  I  had  not  really  "fallen  in 
love  with  him,"  as  the  phrase  goes.  I  might  have  been 
mortified  if  he  had  given  me  up  at  last,  but  I  knew 
now  I  should  not  have  been  heartbroken.  I  had  tried 
my  utmost  to  yield  him  all  wifely  love.  Sometimes 
he  was  fierce  in  his  vehemence,  and  it  turned  me  cold 
at  heart.  I  liked  the  gentler  moods  best,  but  occasion 
ally  there  was  a  hard  indifference.  If  there  had  only 
been  a  child  to  give  scope  to  the  fatherly  feeling! 
After  that  I  think  I  would  only  have  been  the  mother 
of  his  child. 


HER    RIVALS  251 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  tell  father  the  truth. 
He  was  quite  angry  at  first,  but  he  loved  me  too  well 
to  risk  my  happiness,  so  he  consented  reluctantly. 
But  John  should  come  as  a  visitor  and  be  made  wel 
come. 

"And  whatever  you  want  to  do  for  him  you  must 
do  without  thinking  it  will  take  aught  away  from 
me,"  I  said  firmly.  "It  is  all  yours,  and  I  want  you  to 
be  happy." 

"I  wish  I  had  never  persuaded  you  to  marry  Dan 
Hayne,"  he  subjoined  in  a  profoundly  reflective  man 
ner.  "But  I  was  truly  afraid  then  that  I  should  die, 
and  he  did  seem  to  love  you." 

"And  he  loves  me  now,"  I  returned  bravely,  but 
with  a  curious  sinking  of  heart. 

It  took  more  than  one  talk  to  get  matters  settled  and 
father  was  loth  to  let  John  go.  But  I  knew  how  neces 
sary  it  was  when  Dan  said  with  an  acrid  sound  in  his 
voice — "Is  that  fellow  going  to  hang  round  here  all 
the  time  ?" 

"No,"  I  replied  cheerfully.  "He  is  to  board  with 
Mrs.  Wilson  down  on  Lake  Street.  It  will  be  so  much 
more  convenient  when  he  is  once  fairly  at  work.  He 
has  decided  to  learn  the  printing  business." 

I  knew  he  looked  sharply  at  me,  and  I  hated  to  have 
anything  to  hide  from  him. 

I  went  over  to  Mrs.  Wilson's  and  selected  his  room, 
seeing  that  it  was  comfortably  bedded  and  furnished. 
Then  I  paid  her  a  month's  board  in  advance,  explain 
ing  the  relationship  to  father  and  saying  that  he  was 
warmly  interested  in  his  namesake's  welfare.  She 


252         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

promised  to  see  that  he  was  well  taken  care  of  in  every 
way. 

He  hated  to  go,  declaring  he  did  not  mind  the  walk 
nor  the  early  rising  it  entailed.  But  we  set  it  out  so 
very  much  to  his  advantage  that  he  ceased  to 
object. 

"And  we  shall  look  for  you  on  Sundays  and  when 
ever  you  like  of  an  evening.  We  shall  keep  a  sharp 
watch  over  you  and  see  that  you  do  not  go  astray." 

"I  should  be  a  beast  if  I  did  after  all  your  kindness," 
he  returned  with  deep  feeling. 

I  was  rather  glad  that  Polly  Morrison,  as  people 
still  called  her,  made  a  diversion  through  this  time, 
when  relations  were  strained.  It  was  quite  an  event 
for  the  town.  Madame  Maseurier  was  somebody  in 
her  silks  and  furbelows.  She  was  not  "dined  and 
wined,"  though  no  doubt  the  gentlemen  would  have 
done  it  if  it  had  been  admissible,  but  tea  drinkings,  the 
complimentary  honor  of  that  day,  were  proffered. 

"Dan,"  I  said,  and  I  tried  to  keep  in  my  usual  mood, 
even  if  he  was  captious,  "Dan,  Mrs.  Gurnee  has  asked 
us  to  supper  to  meet  Madame  Maseurier  to-morrow 
evening." 

"Well—"  rather  sharply. 

"If  you  don't  care  to  go  I  will  send  regrets." 

"Who  said  I  didn't  care  to  go?  Can't  a  man  think 
a  moment  if  he  has  anything  to  prevent?" 

I  made  no  comment. 

"Do  you  want  to  go?"  in  a  curious  tone. 

"It  is  always  pleasant  at  Mrs.  Gurnee's,  and  her  tea 
is  delicious.  It  must  come  straight  from  China." 


HER    RIVALS  253 

"Oh,  it  is  no  doubt  part  in  the  brewing.  Well,"  with 
a  nod  of  the  head,  "we'll  go  and  inspect  the  Madame 
in  her  fine  array.  I  hope  you  have  something  decent 
to  wear." 

Fortunately  I  had  a  silk  gown  made  in  the  latest 
style.  The  skirts  were  very  full,  and  mine,  because  I 
was  very  slim,  had  to  be  laid  in  plaits  underneath  the 
gauging. 

Certainly  Polly  was  a  fine-looking  woman  and  dis 
tinguished  in  manner,  in  spite  of  her  madcap  youth. 
Several  of  her  old  admirers  were  present  as  husbands, 
and  she  distributed  her  smiles  impartially.  She 
seemed  to  have  a  very  ready  wit  and  much  intelligence, 
and  really  was  fit  to  grace  a  court. 

The  next  night  but  one  we  met  her  again.  She 
was  very  charming  and  brilliant. 

"I  hear  you  have  a  fine  new  house,"  she  said  to  Dan. 
"Am  I  to  have  a  chance  to  view  it  ?" 

"It's  nothing  to  your  fifty  or  hundred  year  old 
houses  with  all  their  treasures.  Chicago,  you  will  re 
member,  is  new,  and  the  world  has  not  yet  poured  its 
luxuries  into  our  laps.  I  had  an  idea  you  had  given  it 
a  long  last  farewell." 

She  laughed  softly.  "That  is  to  say  you  decline — 
and  an  old  friend !  I  did  not  think  you  so  cruel." 

He  flushed.  "No,  I  should  feel  quite  honored,"  he 
subjoined  quickly.  "Ruth,  is  there  an  evening  you  and 
Madame  Maseurier  can  agree  for  her  to  come  to  us?" 

I  really  wanted  father  to  see  her,  so  I  accepted  the 
opportunity  readily,  for  I  had  hardly  dared  propose  it 
to  Dan,  and  she  agreed  with  charming  suavity. 


254         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"You  can  hardly  make  Polly  Morrison  out  of  her," 
I  remarked  as  we  were  walking  home. 

"She  has  been  polished  up  by  society,  we  must  admit, 
and  she  is  what  I  call  a  handsome  woman.  Those  tall 
women  always  do  have  such  a  queenly  look.  It  pays  a 
man  to  get  them  fine  clothes." 

And  I  was  barely  medium. 

I  did  my  best  to  have  a  pretty  tea  table.  Dan  said 
not  to  ask  any  one  else.  We  had  made  some  vines 
grow  over  our  porch,  and  I  had  a  row  of  flowers  on 
each  side  of  the  walk,  like  my  mother's  dooryard. 
Polly  admired  it  cordially  and  told  us  of  the  southern 
flowers  and  vines  that  grew  so  riotously  in  their  sweet 
ness  and  bloom.  She  sat  and  talked  to  father  until 
they  were  summoned  to  tea,  and  we  had  a  rather  merry 
meal.  She  thought  our  prospect  so  fine,  the  great 
sweep  of  prairie  on  one  side,  the  lake  on  the  other. 
They  laughed  about  old  Chicago,  though  Polly 
said  it  had  not  made  rapid  strides  only  in  a  business 
way. 

Her  eyes  gave  one  the  queerest  feeling,  as  if  they 
really  absorbed  you,  drained  you  of  some  power,  and 
yet  you  were  lured  to  meet  them  again  and  again. 

Dan  proposed  to  take  her  home  in  the  buggy. 

"Oh,  no,  let  us  walk,"  she  returned.  "I  am  afraid  of 
these  uneven  narrow  lanes  at  night,  when  you  can't  see 
the  pitfalls." 

So  they  went  off  together,  she  with  a  lace  scarf  over 
her  shining,  rippling  hair,  southern  fashion. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her,  father?"  I  asked,  as  we 
settled  ourselves  on  the  porch. 


HER    RIVALS  2$$ 

"She  is  out  of  the  ordinary,  a  woman  to  take  a  man 
straight  to  the  devil  if  she  so  elected.  I  don't  wonder 
her  husband  keeps  a  good  watch  over  her,  but  she 
seems  to  accept  it  gayly.  I  do  not  believe  she  has  any 
heart." 

Dan  did  not  return  until  midnight.  At  first  when  he 
was  out  late  I  used  to  keep  awake  until  I  found  it 
annoyed  him.  Now  I  went  to  sleep  if  I  could,  or  pre 
tended. 

Two  or  three  days  after  that  Polly  returned  home. 

John  trudged  over  when  he  had  been  at  his  boarding 
place  three  days.  It  was  as  nice  as  it  could  be,  but 
wasn't  like  this,  and  the  street  was  wretched  down  that 
end.  Yes,  the  meals  were  very  good,  and  the  office 
work  was  easy  enough.  Mr.  Bayne  had  asked  him 
to  come  in  some  evening,  he  had  quite  a  library. 
He  had  written  everything  to  his  mother,  a  long, 
long  letter,  and  she  would  be  so  amazed,  so  de 
lighted. 

"I  wish  I  might  call  you  Uncle  John,"  he  said  in  his 
frank,  free  way.  "It  seems  to  bring  you  into  the 
proper  relation — there's  so  much  difference  between 
us  in  years.  Oh,  at  the  office  they  think  you  know  such 
a  lot !" 

"I've  had  a  chance  to  learn  a  good  deal  in  the  years 
I've  lived.  Any  one  can  who  keeps  his  eyes  open  and 
adds  two  and  five  together." 

"But  why  two  and  five?" 

"Because  it  takes  you  farther  along  than  two  and 
two.  Sometimes  when  you  go  out  of  bounds  you 
strike  a  new  knowledge." 


256        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Sunday  morning  Dan  went  off  with  one  of  the 
packers  to  look  at  a  drove  of  cattle,  and  we  had  a  de 
lightful  time  with  John  all  day.  He  told  us  about  his 
sisters  and  their  families.  One  of  the  husbands  taught 
school  in  the  winter.  His  own  brother  seemed  a 
rather  close-fisted  sort  of  person,  and  his  mother  now 
and  then  went  out  nursing.  But  there  was  no  chance 
for  a  young  fellow  in  the  town  unless  he  had  a  farm 
to  start  with. 

Dan  seemed  to  settle  into  a  sort  of  tolerant  mood 
toward  young  John,  but  though  I  tried  my  best  I 
often  found  him  sharp  and  captious.  Then  he  would 
have  a  spell  of  being  tigerishly  fond  of  me.  I  cannot 
use  any  other  adjective,  and  it  filled  me  with  terror, 
as  it  had  times  before,  as  if  he  sought  to  impress  upon 
me  that  I  was  his  alone. 

Then  we  heard  that  Mr.  Pierre  Maseurier  had  been 
thrown  from  his  horse  and  picked  up  with  a  broken 
neck. 

Everybody  wondered  what  Polly  would  do.  Her 
mother  went  to  her. 

So  the  winter  came  on  again.  Half  a  century  had 
passed.  It  was  1850.  How  queer  it  seemed,  as  if  we 
had  written  1840  all  our  lives.  And  I  was  twenty 
years  old. 

Ben  was  in  Harvard.  Mr.  Wight  planned  for 
Chris  to  study  Latin  and  Greek,  and  go  to  a  prepara 
tory  school  another  year. 

Mrs.  Morrison  and  Polly  came  home.  It  seems  that 
Mr.  Maseurier  had  made  no  will,  and  the  sons  claimed 
everything.  Wives  were  not  well  provided  for  at  that 


HER  RIVALS  257 

period.  Still,  the  sons  gave  her  a  small  portion  of 
their  wealth,  and  she  returned  to  Chicago,  her  luxuri 
ous  life  at  an  end.  I  wondered  if  she  was  very  sorry. 
She  wore  heavy  widow's  mourning,  and  did  not  look 
as  attractive  as  in  all  her  furbelows.  Then  widows 
were  expected  to  live  very  quiet,  retired  lives  for  six 
months  at  least. 

I  was  rather  surprised  when  Dan  inquired  some 
what  brusquely  one  day  if  father  had  given  me  the 
deed  of  the  house. 

"Is  it  worth  while  before  I  am  twenty-one?"  I 
asked. 

"What  a  silly  idea!  It  is  worth  while  any  time. 
Ask  him  to  do  it.  He  promised  to." 

I  spoke  to  father. 

He  went  over  to  Judge  Manierre  and  had  the  deed 
made  out.  The  house  and  the  three  acres  of  ground, 
barn,  outbuildings,  etc.,  were  mine,  and  to  go  to  the 
heirs  of  my  own  body,  failing  in  that  they  were  to 
revert  to  the  original  estate  of  John  Gaynor.  Then 
he  made  his  will.  Everything  was  left  to  me  during 
my  lifetime  with  the  exception  of  a  few  gifts  of  land, 
a  plot  to  Dan  Hayne,  another  to  the  son  of  his  cousin, 
John  Gaynor.  At  my  death  without  lawful  heirs  it 
was  all  to  go  to  John  Gaynor.  There  were  several 
permissions  given  about  selling  under  certain  circum 
stances.  And  if  John  Gaynor  died  without  heirs  the 
estate  was  to  go  to  the  city  of  Chicago  to  found  a 
hospital. 

He  brought  a  copy  home  to  see  if  I  was  satisfied 
with  it. 


258        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

I  said  I  was  entirely.  If  I  died,  why  should  father's 
fortune  go  to  enrich  one  who  would  soon  forget  me  ? 

For  now  I  had  an  awesome  consciousness  that  my 
husband  did  not  love  me  as  Homer  loved  Sophie,  as 
many  wives  were  loved.  I  tried  to  be  sweet  and 
patient,  to  keep  my  house  in  pretty  order,  to  have  his 
clothes  just  as  he  wanted  them,  and  everything  to  his 
hand,  to  be  ready  if  he  asked  me  to  go  out,  which  he 
did  not  often  do  nowadays.  He  was  a  good  deal  with 
the  men.  He  had  been  training  Chita's  pretty  colt  for 
a  splendid  racer  and  was  proud  enough  of  him.  Then 
he  was  off  to  Galena  for  a  week  at  a  time,  or  on  some 
other  business  over  night. 

When  he  learned  about  the  house  he  was  very 
angry.  I  had  never  seen  him  in  such  a  passion.  It 
turned  me  sick  and  cold.  He  had  never  sworn  at  me 
before,  and  he  said  dreadful  things  about  father. 

"It  is  all  father's,"  I  replied.  "He  gives  it  to  me 
during  my  lifetime  if  I  outlive  him,  and  while  he  lives 
no  one  can  take  it  away  from  him." 

"He  promised  you  the  house.  It  was  an  object  for 
me  to  marry  you." 

"Then  you  did  not  love  me?"  I  faced  him  with  that. 

"Well,  in  a  way,  yes.  But  you  are  poor,  barren 
stock!  And  here  comes  this  beggar's  brat  that  no 
one  ever  heard  of  before — why,  I  thought  you  had  no 
relations.  And  he  is  to  take  everything." 

"I  may  live  to  be  an  old  woman.  And  father  may 
live  years  yet." 

He  had  certainly  seemed  stronger  the  past  year. 
He  had  attended  to  nearly  all  the  planting  in  the  spring, 


HER    RIVALS  259 

Dan  had  been  away  so  much.  He  got  about  very  well 
with  only  one  crutch. 

Dan  swore  a  horrible  oath  and  turned  on  his  heel. 
I  was  glad  father  was  not  in  the  house,  but  I  was 
mortally  afraid  he  would  go  after  him.  He  was  away 
then  for  two  or  three  days  and  nights.  There  are 
some  shocks  that  seem  to  change  life  for  us,  make  a 
difference  that  one  can  never  wholly  surmount.  I 
knew  this  had  come  to  me. 

Dan  was  not  covetous.  He  made  money  easily,  and 
spent  it  freely  without  any  apparent  regret.  There 
were  suppers  with  the  men,  and  he  was  generous  about 
helping  his  friends.  So  why  should  he  have  counted 
on  father's  money  when  he  could  be  a  rich  man  with  a 
little  carefulness? 

But  the  awful  knowledge  that  was  more  than  sus 
picion  rushed  over  me,  leaving  me  cold  and  faint. 
Father  had  been  poorly  that  winter.  And  I  knew  now 
if  father's  land  should  be  turned  into  money,  if  the 
city  should  go  on  spreading  out,  I  would  be  an  heiress. 
Dan  had  as  much  faith  in  Chicago's  future  as 
father. 

Had  this  anything  to  do  with  his  fancy  for  me? 
I  could  not  blind  myself  to  the  fact.  Then  I  think  I 
had  piqued  him  by  not  being  too  easily  won.  It  was 
not  coquetry,  but  because  I  had  never  felt  certain  of 
myself. 

I  was  so  miserable  I  had  to  tell  father. 

"My  poor  Little  Girl!"  Then  he  roused  to  anger. 
"I  can  easily  destroy  the  deed.  The  bargain  was  that 
I  should  deed  the  house  to  you,  but  that  I  should  have 


260        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

my  home  in  it  as  long  as  I  lived.  I  never  promised  to 
will  all  my  property  to  you.  For  a  certain  amount  of 
oversight  he  was  to  have  a  certain  share  of  the  profits. 
This  last  year  he  has  not  done  his  part  at  all.  I  could 
justly  complain  of  him.  I  have  hired  some  of  his  work 
done  out  of  my  part.  He  is  with  a  gay  set  and  he 
does  drink.  Oh,  my  Little  Girl,  you  are  between  two 
fires." 

He  took  me  in  his  arms,  and  I  cried  on  the  dear 
fatherly  breast. 

It  is  curious  how  the  expected  fails  to  meet  the 
mark.  Father  had  resolved  to  brave  it  out,  and  I  was 
shaking  in  every  pulse.  But  Dan  returned  careless 
and  pleasant,  ate  his  supper  with  rather  exuberant 
gossip,  dressed  himself,  and  went  out  with  no  sign  of 
storm,  and  we  would  not  throw  the  first  dart. 

"Ruth,"  Sophie  began  hesitatingly  one  morning 
when  I  had  gone  in  to  see  the  babies,  which  were  my 
delight,  "what  calls  Dan  down  to  the  Morrisons'  so 
much?  He  is  there  every  few  nights.  And  he  took 
Polly  out  driving  after  nine  o'clock.  Some  one  ought 
to  put  a  stop  to  it.  Polly  is  being  very  retired  and 
discreet,  and  all  that,  but  this  is  going  on." 

"How  do  you  know  ?"  I  asked,  cold  as  ice  at  heart. 

"I  can't  tell  you  without  a  breach  of  confidence,  that 
is,  not  the  name.  But  it  is  true.  Shall  Homer  take 
it  up?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  I  cried.  "Don't  let  him  quarrel  about 
me.  I  can't  tell.  Wait  and  let  me  think." 

"It  will  be  an  open  scandal  by  and  by,  though  they 
carry  it  on  in  the  dark.  Somehow  I  always  rather 


HER   RIVALS  261 

distrusted  Dan.  Oh,  you  ought  not  have  married 
him." 

But  it  was  all  done.  No  one  can  take  a  step  back 
ward  in  his  or  her  life.  I  remembered  what  father 
had  said  about  Polly. 

I  rose  weak  and  trembling.  I  said  again  I  must 
think  it  over.  She  kissed  me  tenderly,  but  I  was  like 
one  bereft  of  feeling. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

POLLY. 

I  THOUGHT  when  I  was  out  in  the  street  I  would  go  and 
see  Mother  Hayne.  I  would  like  to  know  how  this 
matter  of  the  house  seemed  to  a  woman  who  had  been  a 
wife  many  years.  Yet  her  husband  had  not  taken  pains 
to  make  any  special  provision  for  her.  Why  should  a 
wife  then  provide  for  her  husband  ?  I  felt  ill  and  per 
plexed. 

Her  face  was  radiant.  She  clasped  me  in  her  arms 
and  kissed  me  again  and  again. 

"Do  people  ever  go  crazy  with  joy?"  she  cried,  and 
there  was  the  wonderful  sound  in  her  voice  that  comes 
from  a  full  heart,  satisfied  to  the  utmost.  "I've  read 
this  letter  over  and  over  again.  Norman  is  coming 
home!" 

Was  he  going  to  bring  a  wife?  I  wondered  in  a 
dull  manner,  but  I  uttered  no  word. 

"You  must  read  it.  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you.  Nor 
man  has  won  his  good  fortune,  for  I  know  he  has  been 
the  best  of  sons  to  that  poor  old  man.  And  now  he 
comes  back  to  us.  Read !  read !" 


POLLY  263 

She  thrust  the  letter  into  my  hand  and  sat  down, 
wiping  the  tears  from  her  face  with  her  apron,  smiling 
through  them,  her  face  fairly  transfigured  and  looking 
almost  like  a  girl.  I  stared  at  her,  the  transformation 
was  so  wonderful. 

"Read !  read !"  she  cried  impatiently. 

In  the  previous  letter  he  had  written  to  his  mother 
he  had  spoken  of  a  rather  severe  illness  that  had 
attacked  Mr.  Le  Moyne.  It  had  not  made  any  special 
impression  on  me.  But  here  in  the  very  beginning — 
and  they  had  gone  to  one  of  the  pretty  coast  watering 
places  where,  though  he  was  quite  feeble,  he  seemed 
to  recuperate.  No  one  had  felt  especially  alarmed 
when  he  had  a  slight  recurrence,  and  for  a  few  days 
he  had  seemed  not  to  lose  ground.  Then  there  had  oc 
curred  a  sudden  collapse  of  all  the  vital  energies  and 
in  twenty-four  hours  he  had  passed  away.  But  he  had 
kept  some  sight  to  the  last.  It  had  been  a  horror  to 
him  lest  he  might  have  to  be  led  about,  and  he  had 
prayed  to  go  before  that  time.  And  though  Norman 
would  miss  one  who  had  been  the  kindest  of  friends, 
indeed  a  father  to  him,  he  had  lived  out  the  allotted 
span,  and  had  his  wish  granted. 

Part  of  the  letter  had  been  written  while  they  were 
making  arrangements  to  go  to  Paris.  His  family  slept 
in  Pere  la  Chaise,  and  he  would  be  laid  beside  them. 
There  was  much  in  the  tender  regard  and  sorrow  that 
brought  tears  to  my  own  eyes. 

Arrived  at  Paris  he  had  found  a  great  deal  to  do. 
Mr.  Le  Moyne's  papers  were  in  the  safe  of  a  notary. 
All  the  arrangements  had  been  made  to  a  letter.  He 


264        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

had  left  quite  a  large  fortune.  There  were  some  distant 
relatives  remembered,  he  had  been  generous  to  the  occu- 
list  who  had  prolonged  his  failing  sight,  to  his  numer 
ous  friends,  doubly  generous  to  him,  Norman,  and 
the  residue  had  gone  to  charity.  As  soon  as  he  could 
get  through  with  his  part  of  the  business  he  should  fly 
home  at  once,  though  the  probabilities  were  that  he 
would  have  to  go  back  again.  But  he  was  dying  for  a 
sight  of  the  dear  ones,  especially  his  mother  in  her 
sorrow. 

It  was  indeed  a  heart-appealing  letter.  We  both 
cried  over  it,  yet  it  gave  us  a  great  sense  of  joy.  I  for 
got  my  own  troubles  entirely,  and  though  she  was  fain 
to  keep  me  I  hurried  off  home.  They  were  just  sitting 
down  to  dinner. 

"Oh,  Dan,"  I  cried,  "your  mother  has  heard  such 
news.  Mr.  Le  Moyne  is  dead  and  Norman  is  coming 
home.  He  has  been  left  quite  a  fortune.  She  wants 
you  to  come  down  and  read  the  letter." 

"Hello!  That  is  news.  And  a  fortune!  The 
Haynes  are  looking  up.  Well,  I  suppose  Norman  is 
so  Frenchified  and  full  of  airs  that  he  will  give  Chi 
cago  the  go-by.  No  word  of  his  marrying?  Mother 
doesn't  seem  to  accumulate  daughters-in-law  very 
fast." 

Father  was  interested  as  well.  When  Dan  rose  to  go 
he  said  pleasantly,  with  what  sounded  like  desire  in  his 
voice — 

"Ruth,  don't  you  want  to  go  out  for  a  drive  this 
afternoon?  There's  such  a  fine  breeze  and  the  sun 
isn't  over  hot." 


POLLY  265 

Was  there  really  a  smile  on  his  face?  My  heart 
leaped  up  in  gladness  and  I  answered  joyfully. 

Father  and  I  talked  quite  a  while  afterward.  He 
was  glad  to  see  Dan  so  cordial.  I  could  not  tell  him 
what  I  had  heard.  And  yet  might  it  not  have  been 
mere  gossip? 

He  had  made  several  ill-natured  flings  about  the 
house,  but  no  real  complaint  again.  I  do  not  suppose 
he  knew  about  the  will.  I  was  glad  and  thankful  to 
have  him  pleasant,  and  to  ask  me  to  go  out  with 
him. 

And  yet  as  I  sat  there  waiting,  so  as  not  to  detain 
him,  my  heart  went  down  again  and  I  questioned  his 
motive,  feeling  that  it  was  terrible  for  a  wife  to  do  that. 
How  had  I  lost  faith?  How  had  I  come  to  have  this 
mysterious  outlook  so  dark  and  full  of  fear? 

He  was  bright  and  smiling  when  he  came.  It  was 
a  perfect  summer  afternoon  and  the  air  was  fragrant 
with  the  growing  crops,  beautiful  and  peaceful  too. 
A  golden  light  hovered  over  all,  making  subtle  waves 
in  the  air,  and  then  followed  the  rose-colored  sugges 
tion  of  coming  sunset,  as  if  to  herald  the  brighter  glow. 
Dan  had  been  very  pleasant,  jolly,  finding  so  many 
amusing  incidents.  To  me  there  was  a  sort  of  sweet 
ening  of  perceptions,  a  sense  down  deep  in  my  con 
sciousness  that  matters  would  go  better.  What  if  he 
had  taken  Polly  out  to  ride  one  night,  what  if  he  had 
called  there  occasionally  ?  I  was  his  wife,  and  if  he  had 
been  vexed  about  things  he  must  love  me,  since  we  were 
to  go  on  to  our  life's  end.  And  no  matter  how  hard 
it  was,  I  must  love  him.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  never 


266          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

known  how  high  and  solemn  a  thing  love  was  until 
now. 

When  Dan  lifted  me  out  of  the  buggy  he  kissed  me 
and  said,  "Have  you  had  a  nice  time,  Little  Girl  ?" 

"Oh,  Dan!"  I  hugged  his  arm.  There  didn't  seem 
any  word  in  my  vocabulary  strong  enough  to  express 
my  satisfaction. 

I  remember  he  played  checkers  that  night  with 
father,  losing  the  first  game,  winning  the  second,  but 
father  captured  the  rubber. 

"I'm  getting  rusty,"  he  laughed.  "I  must  brush  up. 
Now  let  us  have  a  game  of  cards." 

There  were  several  new  games.  I  took  a  hand  with 
them.  When  Dan  went  out  to  see  if  Chita  and  Duke 
were  all  right,  father  said : 

"Dan  hasn't  been  drinking  for  several  days.  If  he 
could  realize  how  much  more  of  a  man  he  is  when  he 
lets  whiskey  pretty  well  alone,  I  think  he'd  drop  it. 
It  was  quite  like  old  times  to-night,  wasn't  it,  Little 
Girl?" 

My  heart  was  so  full  that  I  could  only  kiss  father. 
Both  of  them  had  called  me  "Little  Girl." 

I  was  so  comfortable  that  I  dismissed  all  thoughts 
of  Polly.  Indeed,  Norman's  return  was  the  great 
theme  of  conversation,  and  most  people  were  speculat 
ing  on  how  much  of  a  fortune  he  would  have.  Mr. 
Harris  had  dropped  into  quite  an  old  man  and  his  hair 
was  snowy  white.  He  took  great  credit  to  himself  for 
starting  Norman  on  the  road,  as  he  phrased  it,  and 
talked  over  all  the  early  times  with  father.  Oh,  how 
fascinating  they  were ! 


POLLY  267 

I  had  given  up  corresponding  with  Norman,  given 
up  my  French  also.  I  had  written  several  times  after 
my  marriage,  but  I  must  confess  Norman's  letters  had 
lost  something  of  their  charm.  He  used  to  say,  "Do 
you  remember  this  or  that,  the  walk  we  took  here,  the 
talk  about  such  a  poem  or  such  a  legend  ?"  He  had  left 
off  all  these  references. 

"Why  do  you  have  to  write  to  Norman?"  Dan  said 
on  one  occasion.  "Can't  you  hear  all  the  news  from 
mother  ?  And  I  should  think  the  letters  must  be  mostly 
repetitions." 

"Why,  I  don't  have  to,"  I  said  laughingly. 

Then  I  began  to  send  messages  in  his  mother's 
letters.  She  used  to  write  them  in  journal  fashion, 
and  it  was  quite  a  labor.  Once  she  said,  "I  do  grudge 
postage  for  such  clumsy  packets,  or  I  should  if  Nor 
man  didn't  send  it  every  now  and  then,  twice  more 
than  I  can  use."  It  was  very  sweet  of  him. 

Every  day  I  thought  of  his  return.  He  was  twenty- 
nine  now.  How  would  he  look?  not  like  Homer — I 
wanted  him  to  have  his  own  individuality. 

We  went  on  very  comfortably.  Dan  looked  after 
business  better,  though  he  made  some  trips  away — two 
or  three  days  at  a  time.  I  said  to  Sophie,  "I  think  that 
about  Polly  was  awful  gossip.  Dan  does  stay  at  home 
a  good  deal." 

She  shook  her  head  dubiously.  "It  came  very 
straight  to  me.  But  Polly  has  been  away  some  latterly. 
I  suppose  we  will  presently  see  her  blossoming  out  of 
widow's  weeds,  and  she'll  capture  some  one  with 
money  again.  You  mark  my  words." 


268         A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

There  was  one  point  Dan  did  not  try  to  overcome. 
He  did  not,  would  not,  like  young  John,  who  was  doing 
well  and  a  favorite  with  his  employers.  He  re 
marked  it. 

"Cousin  Ruth,"  he  asked,  one  of  the  Sundays  he  was 
specially  invited,  which  meant  that  Dan  would  not  be 
at  home,  "why  does  Mr.  Hayne  dislike  me  so?  I  don't 
do  anything  to  him.  Is  it  because  your  father  does  a 
little  in  a  money  way  for  me?  I  mean  to  pay  it  all 
back  as  I  get  along.  And  the  house  is  uncle's,  I  sup 
pose?  I'm  not  going  to  ask  anything  outright.  You've 
both  been  so  kind,  and  sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  rather 
sneaked  in,  don't  you  know,"  and  there  was  a  per 
plexed  light  in  his  eyes. 

"Nonsense!"  I  returned  decidedly.  "He  used  to  be 
curt  to  his  own  brother  Ben  at  times.  Men  who  have 
to  order  others  about  and  swear  at  cattle  and  all  that 
get  brusque  ways." 

"You  see  my  brother  didn't  like  to  have  me  round, 
why  I  never  could  quite  tell,  unless  he  thought  mother 
was  taking  a  double  share  out  of  the  farm,  and  I 
worked  like  a  trooper  out  of  school  hours.  I've  seen 
just  the  same  look  in  Mr.  Hayne's  eyes." 

"You  come  for  father's  sake,"  I  made  answer. 

Nevertheless,  I  had  some  misgivings.  I  seemed  to 
be  leading  a  double  life.  I  was  smoothing  out  the 
thorns  and  crookedness  between  father  and  Dan,  I 
was  having  this  pleasant  young  fellow  on  the  sly. 
Sometimes  I  had  a  strong  mind  to  ask  father  to  change 
the  deed  of  the  house  and  let  Dan  have  it  when  I  died. 
But  on  the  other  hand,  Dan  was  spending  money  freely 


POLLY  269 

everywhere.  He  did  bet  on  games  and  cards,  and  on 
the  Indian  races.  He  gave  a  supper  to  the  men  occa 
sionally.  Of  course,  he  always  won  on  Chita,  perhaps 
on  other  risks.  He  was  very  free  handed. 

Father  had  so  few  wants,  and  no  extravagances. 
Surely  he  had  the  right  to  spend  a  little  on  his  own 
kin. 

Oh,  how  I  did  want  a  friend  in  these  days.  I  wished 
at  times  that  I  was  a  Catholic  and  could  go  to  con 
fession.  Pere  Saint  Pailais  was  so  lovely,  and  his 
voice  had  that  beguiling  winsomeness  that  I  longed  to 
have  it  comfort  me,  set  me  straight.  For  I  was  be 
ginning  to  feel  there  was  a  great  hard  wall  between 
Dan  and  me.  I  tried  my  best  to  love  him.  Oh,  what 
was  love! 

Yet,  some  of  the  wives  I  knew  had  fallen  into  a 
settled  routine,  I  was  going  to  say  indifference.  They 
kept  their  houses  well,  looked  after  their  babies.  Their 
husbands  went  out  in  the  evenings  to  smoke  or  talk 
politics,  trade,  crops,  and  they  ran  into  a  neighbor's  to 
gossip.  Why  could  not  these  things  satisfy  me? 
There  were  sudden  impulses  that  led  me  to  kiss  Dan, 
to  almost  beg  that  he  would  love  me  as  he  had  in  those 
first  few  years,  when  I  did  not  really  want  it.  Per 
haps  I  had  tired  out  his  love.  Mother  was  sure  mar 
ried  people  "settled." 

I  knew  father  was  watching  me  very  closely.  I  tried 
to  hide  my  thoughts  with  a  girlish  gayety.  It  oc 
curred  to  me  more  than  once  that  I  might  have  to 
choose  between  Dan  and  father,  and  in  my  secret  heart 
I  knew  I  should  go  with  father. 


270        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Polly  was  beginning  to  crawl  out  of  her  seclusion  a 
little.  I  met  her  one  day  at  the  bookstore  where  I 
was  buying  some  articles  for  father.  I  could  not 
understand  why  she  should  color  up  so.  She  really 
did  look  enchanting  with  the  bit  of  lisse  roll  to  her 
widow's  cap  inside  the  bonnet,  often  called  Marie 
Stuart.  She  had  a  "book  muslin"  collar  worked 
with  black  and  little  turn-over  cuffs  of  the  same 
material.  Her  white  skin  and  her  wavy  hair,  her 
full  red  lips  with  their  tempting  curves  almost  fasci 
nated  me.  Did  Dan  ever  kiss  her?  I  wondered. 
Could  she  take  a  man  "straight  to  the  devil?"  I  shud 
dered. 

"You  don't  look  well,"  she  began  in  her  mellifluous 
tones.  "You  are  thin  and  pale.  Do  you  know  I  used 
to  think  you  were  quite  a  pretty  little  girl,  but  I  sup 
pose  we  all  do  go  off  some,"  laughing.  "I  tell  mother 
I  never  want  to  be  a  horrid-looking  old  woman  like 
granny.  Wasn't  she  frightful?  So  I  hope  I'll  die 
somewhere  along  midde  life,  when  I  can  make  a  decent- 
looking  corpse.  And  Norman's  coming  home !  Don't 
you  suppose  if  Norman  had  stayed  here  you  would 
have  married  him  instead  of  Dan?" 

"I  think  Dan  made  me  marry  him,"  I  gasped,  as  if 
the  words  were  wrested  from  me. 

"He's  awfully  imperious,  isn't  he?  I  suppose  you 
give  in  to  his  whims,  but  the  way  to  keep  your  charm 
over  such  a  man  is  to  deny  him,  to  dispute  with  him — 
up-and-down  quarrels,  and  the  making  up  is  delicious ! 
Marriage  is  queer,  isn't  it,  and  the  wrong  people  do  get 
together!  Is  the  old  couplet  true — 


POLLY  171 

"  'There's  a  house  'tother  side  of  the  way, 
And  there  they  make  Lucifer  matches  ?' " 

Another  customer  entered,  and  Polly  turned  to  her. 
My  parcel  came.  I  paid  for  it  and  went  out. 

If  Norman  had  not  gone  away  would  I  have  mar 
ried  him? 

I  did  not  know  anything  about  marriage  in  that  in 
nocent  childhood.  Norman  staying  right  along,  and 
we  growing  nearer  each  other,  reading  the  same  books, 
enjoying  thrilling  or  tender  verses,  walks  and  talks, 
and  then — I  knew  there  would  not  have  been  any  re 
pulsion,  that  I  should  have  been  glad,  glad  with  su 
preme  joy,  just  as  Sophie  had  been. 

I  laid  the  package  down  on  the  table.  Father  was  in 
his  office,  but  I  could  not  go  in.  I  went  up  to  our 
room,  took  off  my  bonnet  and  glanced  around.  Dan 
had  been  in  and  changed  his  clothes.  Trousers  thrown 
over  a  chair,  collar  and  stock  on  the  bureau,  shoes 
and  a  soiled  handkerchief  on  the  floor.  Dan  had  gone 
off  somewhere.  The  most  curious  repulsion  came  over 
me.  I  could  not  touch  one  article  to  put  them  away. 
Oh,  if  I  could  run  away  somewhere — but  there  was 
father.  Keeping  together  "as  long  as  ye  both  do 
live." 

"Ruth!"  called  father. 

It  might  have  been  minutes  or  hours,  it  seemed  an 
endless  while  to  me. 

"Did  you  get  the  paper?  Come  down.  I  want  to 
make  out  some  bills.  Dan's  gone  to  Batavia  for  two 
days,  left  his  good-by.  Why,  Ruth,  you  look  like  a 
ghost,  what  is  the  matter?" 


272        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Do  I?"  I  tried  to  laugh,  but  my  mouth  was  stiff, 
and  I  felt  numb  all  over.  "I  don't  think  it  anything. 
I  may  have  walked  too  fast.  The  sun  is  hot." 

He  put  me  in  the  big  rocking  chair.  I  picked  up 
a  fan.  I  was  cold  enough,  Heaven  knew,  but  I  wanted 
to  make  some  movement. 

"Ruth,  I  think  you  are  not  well.  You  grow  thinner 
all  the  time,  and  you  have  no  flesh  to  lose.  We  must 
have  the  doctor.  Child,  I  have  been  comforting  my 
self  that  matters  were  better  with  you " 

His  kindly  eyes  were  full  of  solicitude. 

I  made  a  great  effort.  "If  you  mean  with  Dan," 
I  said,  "they  are.  He  is  much  pleasanter.  I  think  he 
has  gotten  over  the  trouble  about  the  house,  though 
sometimes  I  have  wondered  whether  he  might  not  have 
it  when  I  am  gone." 

"No,"  father  replied,  almost  with  set  teeth.  "You 
need  not  go  for  that.  I'm  not  sure  but  it  would  be 
better  for  you  to  deed  it  back  to  me.  Still  if  things 
go  on,  well " 

He  hobbled  to  the  closet  and  brought  me  some  wine. 
That  refreshed  me.  Then  he  opened  the  package, 
made  out  some  bills,  straightened  his  accounts  when 
it  was  supper-time. 

John  came  over  in  the  evening,  and  father  would 
keep  him  all  night.  I  felt  quite  as  well  as  usual. 
When  I  went  upstairs  I  laid  the  soiled  things  away, 
hung  up  his  trousers,  but  his  vest  fell  to  the  floor,  and 
his  knife  and  pencil  rolled  out  with  a  bit  of  paper.  I 
put  the  two  back,  crumpled  up  the  paper,  then  be 
thought  myself  it  might  be  a  memorandum  of  some- 


POLLY  273 

thing  and  spread  it  out,  took  it  over  to  the  candle.  It 
was  a  pencil  scrawl. 

"You  will  find  me  at  Weesaukie's  lodge  at  twi 
light."  It  was  not  Dan's  writing. 

There  was  no  name.  He  had  taken  Duke  and  gone 
in  the  buggy.  Was  he  to  have  a  companion?  It 
turned  me  sick  and  cold  again.  Polly's  glittering, 
mocking  eyes  and  her  insolent  tones  with  their  half 
veiled  gayety  swept  over  me.  Was  it — would  it  be 
Polly?  Oh,  no,  no,  Dan  could  not  do  such  a  thing  as 
that! 

For  all  Polly's  brave  show  of  mourning  it  was 
whispered  that  her  married  life  had  not  been  altogether 
serene,  and  that  she  made  little  ado  about  the  loss  of 
her  grandeur. 

All  night  something  haunted  me,  a  kind  of  imper 
sonal  agency,  treacherous,  trying  to  lure  me  some 
where  in  darkness  and  vagueness,  while  I  had  to  make 
a  great  effort  to  hold  back.  And  then  I  was  wandering 
over  wild,  dreary  prairie  land,  at  last  coming  out  to 
a  strange  black,  silent  lake.  What  splashed  into  it? 
The  cry  woke  me,  and  my  heart  beat  with  a  great 
terror. 

"John,"  I  said  to  the  young  cousin,  "I  want  you  to 
go  down  to  the  Morrison  house  this  noon  and  take  a 
note,  but  do  not  give  it  to  any  one  except  Polly.  If 
she  isn't  home,  and  she  may  not  be,  you  say  it  is  all 
right,  and  be  sure  to  bring  the  note  back  to  me.  Don't 
leave  your  name  or  anything.  Come  back  to 
night." 

It  was  a  daring  thing  if  Polly  was  home. 


274         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

I  busied  myself  about  household  duties,  and  in  the 
afternoon  a  neighbor  came  in  with  her  two  little  ones. 
What  made  every  one  so  anxious  to  know  how  much 
fortune  Norman  would  have?  Still  I  was  glad  of  the 
break,  for  father  had  gone  out  to  look  after  the  men. 
The  weather  was  fine  and  he  was  anxious  to  get  in 
some  of  the  crops.  Then  he  took  a  rest  in  his  easy 
chair. 

I  walked  down  the  street  a  short  distance.  John 
came  hurrying  along  whistling,  but  stopped,  thrust  his 
hand  in  his  pocket. 

"She  wasn't  home,  Cousin  Ruth.  The  woman 
wanted  the  note,  but  I  wouldn't  give  it  to  her.  She 
told  me  to  come  on  Friday." 

"Yes,"  I  returned  breathlessly.  "Do  not  mention 
it  to  father,"  and  I  took  the  missive. 

Then  Polly  was  away  as  well ! 

Dan  came  home  late  Friday  night,  good  natured, 
bustling,  and  announced  that  he  must  start  early  the 
next  morning  for  Galena  on  some  important  business. 
He  hoped  I  had  not  missed  him  much.  He  was  sorry 
to  go  away  at  this  busy  season,  but  he  would  make  it 
all  right  with  father.  Indeed,  he  began  to  think  with 
so  much  business  of  his  own  they  would  really  need  a 
regular  overseer. 

"Now  if  that  Gaynor  boy  was  four  or  five  years 
older,  he  might  come." 

I  was  thunderstruck.  "I  thought  you  did  not  like 
him,"  I  half  faltered. 

"I  don't,  but  your  father  seems  to  like  him." 

The  tone  was  rather  sarcastic.    I  made  no  reply.    I 


POLLY  275 

was  glad  he  did  not  proffer  me  so  much  as  a  kiss.  In 
five  minutes  he  was  asleep. 

So  to  Galena  he  went  the  next  morning  after  a  brief 
colloquy  with  father. 

"I'd  like  to  know  what's  got  into  Dan  Hayne," 
father  said,  almost  angrily.  "I  s'pose  he's  had  a  streak 
of  luck  somewhere,  he's  gay  as  a  lark,  but  he  is  sober 
enough,  and  I'm  pretty  sure  he  hasn't  been  off  on  a 
carouse.  I  suppose  it  is  all  right  between  you  ?"  study 
ing  me  sharply. 

"It  was  all  pleasant,  if  that  is  what  you  mean." 

He  nodded,  but  did  not  look  satisfied. 

"I'll  have  to  hunt  up  Jake  Esden — and  I  suppose  he 
will  be  too  busy  to  lend  a  hand.  This  kind  of  weather 
can't  last.  If  I  wasn't  such  a  battered  old  hulk!" 

I  clasped  my  arms  around  his  neck,  but  I  did  not 
sigh  nor  sob,  though  both  rose  in  my  heart.  Whatever 
came  it  would  be  we  two. 

"We'll  have  a  week  to  ourselves  anyhow,"  he  said,  in 
a  gratified  tone. 

A  week  in  which  to  be  glad  that  the  husband  of  one's 
life  would  be  away.  What  a  bitter  travesty  it  was. 
But  this  time  Polly  was  home,  making  preparations  to 
go  to  Vincennes  for  quite  a  stay. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 


DAN 


I  WAS  all  alone  that  August  afternoon.  It  was  hot  out 
on  the  porch  and  I  took  my  sewing  inside.  I  liked  to 
sew  when  anything  perplexed  me.  There  seems  a 
quiet  kind  of  diversion  in  the  effort  one  has  to  make, 
which  is  not  much  of  an  effort,  after  all.  Father  had 
gone  down  to  the  warehouse  to  see  about  loading  one 
of  the  boats.  One  of  the  men  was  with  him,  though 
he  had  learned  to  get  about  quite  comfortably. 

I  heard  a  step  on  the  walk.  Dan's  week  was  up  and 
he  might  be  home  any  day.  It  had  been  a  pleasant 
and  busy  week,  and  it  seemed  as  if  most  of  the  people 
I  had  ever  known  had  visited  me.  There  was  my  old 
friend,  Mrs.  Chadwick,  who  had  come  for  her  brother. 
He  was  rather  ailing  now,  and  it  was  thought  a  change 
would  benefit  him,  so  she  would  take  him  home  with 
her.  She  was  still  sweet  and  charming  and  intelligent 
and  we  had  a  pleasant  visit.  Sophie  came  up  with  the 
four  children,  and  we  enjoyed  a  merry,  romping  time. 
Of  course,  she  couldn't  let  Polly  alone,  but  she  ad 
mitted  the  matter  might  have  worn  itself  out,  and  now 


DAN  277 

she  was  preparing  to  take  quite  a  journey.  "Joy  go 
with  her,"  declared  Sophie. 

Ben  had  returned,  a  fine,  fresh-looking  fellow,  tall 
and  with  a  strong  frame,  rather  thin  now,  but  he  was 
full  of  ambition.  He  had  been  doing  very  well,  and 
oh,  what  joy  it  would  be  to  see  Norman,  the  most 
splendid  fellow  in  the  world.  Any  day  he  might 
arrive. 

Chris,  too,  was  full  of  delight.  I  had  no  time  to 
brood  over  my  own  infelicities. 

No  one  had  come  yet  to-day.  It  was  too  warm  for 
womenkind  to  go  visiting  even  with  the  prospect  of  a 
supper  in  which  they  had  had  no  hand. 

So  when  I  heard  the  step  I  did  not  stir,  neither  did 
I  take  the  next  stitch,  but  just  listened  for  the  voice. 
Chris  had  a  way  of  beginning  his  conversation  on  the 
lowest  step  and  talking  all  the  way  along.  It  must  be 
Ben,  stopping  to  pet  the  cat.  Then  I  turned,  but  could 
not  see  who  was  in  the  hall,  rose,  and  took  a  step 
forward,  and  then  we  stood  face  to  face  with  all 
the  years  between.  I  was  no  longer  a  little  girl,  and 
this  was  a  fine,  resolute  man,  clear  eyed,  the  strong 
features  toned  down  by  the  tenderness  and  sympathy 
the  years  had  demanded  of  him,  a  face  one  could 
trust  to  the  death — Norman  Hayne  in  his  ripe  man 
hood. 

There  came  to  me  in  that  one  instant  a  flash  of 
awful  knowledge  that  I  had  no  right  to.  I  swayed 
uncertainly.  I  put  out  my  hand  and  all  went  dark 
before  my  eyes. 

"Oh,  Little  Girl!  Little  Girl!" 


278          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

The  longing  sweetness  of  the  voice  pierced  my  very 
soul,  but  I  went  plunging  down  some  deep  abyss.  Was 
I  really  dying? 

When  I  came  to,  Jolette  and  father  and  a  neighbor 
stood  there  beside  Norman. 

"What  was  the  matter?"  I  asked.  "Why,  I  never 
fainted  in  my  life." 

"Once  is  always  the  first  time,"  said  Mrs.  Miller, 
sententiously. 

Father  was  pale  with  fright,  and  shook  as  if  with 
an  ague,  while  his  eyes  transfixed  mine. 

"I  came  upon  her  too  suddenly,"  Norman  explained. 
"I  was  so  impatient,  and  I  could  not  find  any  one." 

"She  has  not  been  well  of  late,"  exclaimed  father. 

"And  it  has  been  a  hot  afternoon.  Oh,  how  did  you 
stand  it?"  and  I  caught  his  hand. 

"I  was  in  a  tolerably  cool  place.  There  is  a  breeze 
coming  up,  and  the  sun  has  gone  under  a  cloud." 

"Yes.  I  think  we  might  take  her  out  on  the  porch," 
said  Mrs.  Miller.  "Jolette,  you  carry  the  big  rocking 
chair." 

"I  am  all  right,"  and  I  gave  a  tremulous  little  laugh. 
"Did  I  frighten  you  very  much?" 

"It  was  a  pretty  severe  faint,"  Norman  replied,  still 
looking  anxiously  at  me. 

Mrs.  Miller  would  lead  me,  though  I  could  walk 
very  well,  and  only  felt  a  little  shaky. 

The  wind  came  up  in  a  fluttering  sort  of  gale,  as  if 
it  hardly  knew  whether  to  behave  at  its  best  or  worst. 
A  drift  of  mauve  and  dun  began  to  settle  in  level  lines 
along  the  west,  making  a  bar  across  the  sun.  Other 


DAN  279 

patches  of  white  and  pale  gray  chased  each  other  about, 
but  there  was  no  sign  of  shower. 

"When  did  you  get  in?"  asked  father. 

"About  noon.  I  went  straight  to  mother.  Chris 
was  home.  Oh,  you  can't  think  how  glad  I  am  to  be 
here.  It  has  been  a  long  exile  from  the  many  one 
loves.  And  yet  I  ought  not  complain.  I  have  been 
needed  every  day  of  the  time.  But  it  seemed  so  strange 
at  the  first  glance  to  have  every  one  grown  up,  al 
though,  of  course,  I  knew  none  of  us  stood  still,"  and 
he  laughed  with  a  cheerful,  musical  sound.  It  was 
like  a  mellow  echo  of  Dan's.  And  he  was  a  refined 
and  noble  copy  of  his  elder  brother,  a  gentleman  in 
tone,  accent,  the  turn  of  the  head,  the  glance  of  the 
eye,  the  sort  of  atmosphere  that  surrounded  him.  I 
thought  I  would  like  to  have  him  more  distinct  in  per 
sonality. 

He  remained  to  supper,  but  went  immediately  after. 
He  wrung  father's  hand  until  the  pressure  made  him 
wince,  but  he  said  a  simple  good-night  to  me,  and  I 
was  thankful.  I  could  not  have  borne  the  clasp  of  his 
hand. 

There  was  great  rejoicing,  to  be  sure.  We  were 
very  neighborly  in  those  days,  and  joy  as  well  as  sor 
row  stirred  all  hearts.  Then  it  was  something  to 
have  been  nearly  all  over  Europe,  to  understand  sev 
eral  foreign  languages,  to  have  seen  kings  and 
queens. 

A  few  days  after  Dan  came  home.  He  gave  me  a 
careless  greeting,  and  began  to  talk  at  once  about 
Norman. 


z8o         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"I  have  not  seen  much  of  him,"  I  said.  "He  and 
father  went  driving  yesterday,  and  he  was  surprised  at 
what  he  called  the  advancement  of  the  prairies." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  he  carries  his  head  very  high.  And 
I  dare  say  he  came  in  for  a  big  fortune.  You  won't 
see  much  of  him  here,  I  can  tell  you.  We're  not  half 
grand  enough." 

"Your  mother  is  a  very  happy  woman.  I  went 
down  there  yesterday,  while  the  men  were  out.  I  had 
been  so  busy  with  various  matters.  You  must  go  and 
see  her." 

He  nodded,  and  busied  himself  with  some  papers  he 
was  taking  out  of  a  drawer. 

That  was  all  our  greeting  after  a  week's  absence.  I 
had  a  kind  of  stunned  feeling,  and  did  not  really 
care  for  endearments,  though  sometimes  Dan  was 
very  lavish  of  them.  I  had  not  yet  grown  used  to 
this  revelation  of  myself.  I  must  learn  to  love  my 
husband,  it  was  my  only  safeguard.  Otherwise  I 
should  be  a  miserable,  sinful  woman.  For  I  realized 
now  how  I  had  loved  Norman  Hayne  through  these 
years  of  my  childhood,  and  how  I  could  love  him  now, 
how  he  would  fill  the  spaces  in  my  heart  that  had 
never  been  satisfied.  The  pain  and  longing  I  had 
never  understood  before. 

There  was  another  aspect  to  the  case.  Father's  in 
fluence  had  its  share  in  the  step  I  realized.  He  had 
not  thought  then  he  could  live  very  long,  and  it  was  his 
dear  love  for  me  that  longed  to  see  me  safe  in  some 
one's  hands.  He  suffered  enough  in  knowing  that  my 
husband  had  grown  careless,  he  must  never  guess  that 


DAN  281 

I  could  have  given  my  supreme  affection  to  another 
and  been  happy,  blessed  beyond  measure. 

Why  had  Dan  married  me? 

He  could  not  have  been  so  much  in  love  with  an 
unformed  child,  though  I  think  I  did  amuse  him  with 
my  petulance  and  protests.  He  loved  to  conquer  any 
thing.  He  could  subdue  the  most  fractious  horse  and 
do  more  with  an  obstinate  mule  than  any  one  else.  He 
really  enjoyed  my  resistance.  But  was  there  any 
thought  that  at  father's  death  I  should  be  left  with 
quite  a  fortune  ?  There  was  his  anger  about  the  house, 
his  objections  to  young  John  Gaynor.  Yet  now  they 
seemed  matters  almost  of  indifference  to  him. 

But  there  was  my  duty  and  my  safety.  Father  was 
a  very  upright  man  and  used  to  clear  distinctions,  and 
I  knew  I  had  inherited  them.  I  was  a  wife  and  I  had 
no  right  to  consider  what  my  life  might  have  been  with 
any  other  man,  to  brood  over  what  I  had  missed. 

It  seemed  truly  as  if  Norman  helped  me.  Had  I 
done  or  said  anything  in  that  moment  of  the  lapsing  of 
consciousness?  He  came  only  when  father  was 
around.  Oh,  what  talks  there  were  out  on  the  porch, 
to  which  I  listened  enchanted,  yet  I  sat  a  little  by  my 
self,  or  with  father's  arm  around  me.  Mrs.  Hayne 
gathered  the  family  together,  and  father  went  along. 
Four  sweet,  merry  grandchildren,  Sophie  bright,  com 
monplace  to  be  sure,  but  a  most  excellent  wife  and 
mother.  We  talked  of  the  one  who  "was  not,"  of  the 
night  I  had  come  a  Little  Girl,  of  the  many  delightful 
old  things. 

Dan  was  there,  but  I  noted  a  curious  restlessness 


z8z         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

about  him,  as  if  he  was  bored,  and  an  abstraction.  His 
thoughts  certainly  were  elsewhere,  yet  he  told  droll 
stories  and  anecdotes  and  chaffed  Norman.  When  we 
made  ready  to  return  Ben  said  he  would  go  along,  he 
had  an  errand  uptown.  We  were  old  enough  to 
divide  our  city  in  sections  already. 

"Ben — if  you'll  just  see  my  folks  safe  home,"  he 
said,  "I'll  be  mightily  obliged  to  you.  I  ought  to  see 
some  one  on  business,  and  I  know  I  can  catch  him  to 
night." 

"Yes,"  assented  Ben,  and  then  Chris  said  he  would 
go,  too.  Norman  was  petting  and  playing  with  little 
Ruth. 

Dan  walked  a  short  distance  with  us  and  then  turned 
off  with  a  cheerful  good-night.  But  it  was  past  mid 
night  when  he  returned. 

It  seemed  so  strange  to  walk  on  the  edge  of  some 
suspected  but  unknown  danger,  as  if  the  ground  was 
mined  somewhere  along  the  way.  I  was  outwardly 
cheerful,  I  sang  about  the  house,  I  tried  to  answer 
blithely,  I  cooked  the  things  Dan  liked,  I  begged  him 
to  come  home  early.  I  indulged  in  little  caressing 
ways,  such  as  he  used  to  fairly  extort  years  before.  I 
put  on  whatever  semblance  of  love  I  could  use  without 
being  effusive.  It  did  not  warm  him  at  all,  and  he  had 
been  so  easily  roused.  What  was  this  stone  that  I 
surged  against? 

"Ruth,"  father  said  one  morning,  "what  is  Dan 
about,  "has  he  told  you  of  any  new  plans?" 

"No,"  I  answered  in  a  kind  of  surprise. 

"He  is  putting  money  in  the  copper  mines  up  at  Lake 


DAN  283 

Superior.  He  has  sold  that  Lake  Street  property,  at  a 
sacrifice,  I  think,  and  he  asked  me  for  a  settlement. 
He  wants  to  go  up  to  the  copper  fields  himself." 

"No,  I  have  heard  nothing  about  it." 

Father  came  nearer  and  took  both  of  my  hands. 

"Ruth,  you  cannot  go  up  there,  even  with  your  hus 
band,"  he  exclaimed  solemnly. 

"He  has  not  asked  me.  I  do  not  think  he  would 
want  me."  Yet  I  shuddered  at  the  prospect. 

"One  cannot  fathom  him  any  more.  Of  course,  he 
was  very  plausible  and  all  that,  considering  my  interest, 
and  saying  he  had  not  time  to  attend  to  it,  that  he 
might  be  away  for  months,  and  that  now  I  was  so 
much  improved  a  good  overseer  would  answer  my  pur 
pose.  But  I  say  again  he  shall  not  take  you.  I  would 
as  soon  hand  you  over  to  a  pack  of  ravening  wolves ! 
Oh,  my  darling,  I  have  no  one  in  the  world  but  you, 
a  broken,  disabled,  lonely  old  man." 

He  pressed  me  to  his  heart,  and  I  felt  the  sob  there. 
The  strong  arms  about  me  gave  me  inexpressible  com 
fort. 

"You  need  not  fear,"  I  returned.  "He  shall  not  even 
drag  me  away." 

"He  will  not  try  force.  He  may  try  fraud.  I  dis 
trust  him.  He  used  to  be  so  frank  and  outspoken. 
Will  you  be  careful?  Do  not  be  trapped  into  any 
thing,  for  he  is  deep  as  the  sea.  It  may  be  all  this  cop 
per  business.  I  have  seen  men  go  mad  about  specula 
tion  before,  when  they  could  dance  a  hornpipe  standing 
on  their  heads,  their  brains  were  so  befuddled.  It  is 
not  drink,  but  some  curious  influence  I  cannot  divine." 


284       A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"I  shall  stay  with  you  always.  It  was  one  of  the 
conditions  of  my  marriage.  It  was  as  solemn  a  prom 
ise  as  anything  else." 

"Thank  God,  my  darling." 

There  certainly  was  what  I  should  call  an  intense 
change  in  Dan,  not  any  superficial  emotion.  He  some 
times  sat  with  his  lips  compressed,  and  his  brow  in  a 
frown,  then  it  would  suddenly  lighten  in  such  a  won 
derful  glow,  an  absolute  radiance.  What  was  he  think 
ing  of? 

Once,  when  I  saw  it,  I  went  over  and  kissed  him  in 
a  kind  of  fascinated  mood. 

"Don't !"    He  pushed  me  away  roughly. 

A  month  before  I  would  have  cried,  and  felt  stabbed 
to  the  heart.  Now  I  walked  quietly  away. 

What  weeks  they  were,  not  many  of  them,  but  the 
days  seemed  shodden  with  lead,  the  sun  hung  high  in 
the  heavens,  as  if  loth  to  leave  her  throne. 

I  stayed  mostly  at  home,  helping  father  to  go  over 
accounts.  I  remember  the  last  week.  Norman  was 
not  in  at  all. 

Was  I  longing  for  him?  Was  life  drearier  without 
him  ?  Well,  if  I  was  as  weak  as  that  then  I  must  make 
a  new  and  greater  effort.  But  it  was  fighting  with 
no  line  of  defence  behind  me,  no  husband  to  stretch  out 
a  hand. 

Dan  came  in  awhile  before  noon  one  day  and  began 
to  pack  a  valise.  He  had  taken  away  some  of  his 
belongings  before.  I  had  been  mending  a  few  articles 
rather  too  bulky  to  be  carried  downstairs. 

"I  am  going  away,"  he  announced,  "up  to  Lake 
Superior.  The  Prairie  Bird  starts  this  afternoon." 


DAN  285 

"Oh,  Dan!"  What  should  I  say?  "How  long  are 
you  likely  to  stay  ?"  and  I  tried  to  make  my  voice  solici 
tous. 

There  was  no  answer  for  a  moment  or  two.  Then 
he  turned  around  in  a  fierce  fashion,  and  his  eyes  were 
black  as  night. 

"I  may  as  well  tell  you,"  he  began  in  a  desperate 
tone,  "that  I  am  not  coming  back  at  all." 

I  glanced  up  at  him.  I  knew  the  color  went  out  of 
my  face.  I  was  so  utterly  amazed. 

"You'll  hear  the  story,  but  I  may  as  well  have  the 
gratification  of  telling  you."  His  voice  had  a  peculiar 
depth,  and  his  face  was  set  with  some  tremendous  emo 
tion.  "I  am  going  with  the  woman  I  love,  and  who 
loves  me  with  a  passion  you  never  could  know  if  you 
lived  a  hundred  years !  I  should  have  married  her  in 
the  beginning,  but  I  was  a  blind,  idiotic  fool,  and  she 
had  a  temper.  We  were  never  sure  of  each  other. 
She  made  a  pretence  of  caring  for  this  or  that  one 
when  I  ought  to  have  wrung  the  secret  out  of  her  heart 
and  mastered  her  once  for  all.  A  woman  like  that 
gives  royally  when  she  is  compelled.  You  have  to  ex 
tort  it  out  of  her,  but  the  drop  of  honey  is  worth  it  all. 
The  old  man  who  took  her  in  hand  never  found  the 
way  to  the  heart  of  the  flower.  That  was  saved  for  me. 
And  it  is  a  delicious  draught.  We  are  going  away  to 
gether — we  shall  never  come  back.  What  people  say 
is  of  no  importance  to  us." 

"It  is  Polly  Morrison,"  I  gasped.  "Oh,  Dan,  if  you 
loved  her,  then  why  did  you  marry  me?"  I  cried, 
wounded  to  the  heart's  core. 


z86         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Because  I  was  a  fool.  She  had  gone  out  of  my  life, 
and  I  said  she  could  not  have  loved  me  as  she  pro 
fessed.  And  you  were  a  silly  little  white  kitten,  never 
quite  sure  whether  you  would  jump  on  my  knee  or 
not,  so  I  made  you.  But  what  is  there  to  you? 
Some  cold  Puritan  blood,  some  petty  sort  of  tender 
ness  that  has  no  fire  in  it — nothing  to  kindle  a  man 
to  the  height  of  rapture.  I  tired  of  you  even  before 
she  came,  and  then  my  life  was  set  aflame.  She  is 
the  one  woman  for  me.  A  month,  even,  with  her 
would  outweigh  any  other  woman  on  the  face  of  the 
earth." 

I  sprang  up.  "Dan,  your  solemn  promise !"  At  that 
moment  I  hated  to  be  thrust  aside  for  Polly  Morrison. 
"You  were  not  compelled  to  marry  me.  You — you  did 
love  me  then — a  little." 

He  laughed  scornfully.  "You  have  just  hit  it — a 
little.  A  man  sometimes  takes  second  best,  more  fool 
he!  You  might  have  done  if  Polly  with  all  her 
witchery  had  not  crossed  my  path.  Or  it  might  have 
been  some  one  else.  There  is  no  need  of  making  a  fuss 
now.  I  have  not  wasted  any  of  your  patrimony.  You 
can  hand  it  all  over  to  John  Gay  nor  if  you  like,  and  you 
and  your  father  can  maunder  on  through  life.  And  I 
shall  have  a  glowing,  thrilling,  absorbing  atmosphere, 
in  which  one  really  lives.  No,  don't  come  near 
me—" 

The  bed  had  stood  between  us  as  I  sat  by  the 
window.  Perhaps  I  had  unconsciously  stepped  for 
ward.  I  had  a  wild  idea  that  I  must  plead,  that  I  must 
exert  all  my  wifely  powers  to  keep  him  from  commit 
ting  this  dreadful  sin. 


DAN  287 

"Don't  come  near  me,"  he  continued.  "We  will  say 
good-by  with  this  space  between  us  and  no  tomfoolery. 
Perhaps  I  was  idiotic  to  come  and  tell  you  this,  but  I 
wanted  you  to  know  how  the  other  woman  was  loved, 
how  a  man  loves  when  a  woman  fills  every  thought  of 
his  soul.  There — you  and  your  father  are  well  rid 
of  me!" 

He  picked  up  his  valise  and  strode  out  of  the  room, 
down  the  stairs.  I  dropped  on  the  bed.  I  did  not 
faint  or  cry.  I  could  hardly  be  any  more  deserted  than 
I  had  been  the  last  two  months.  A  deserted  wife !  A 
husband  by  all  of  God's  sacred  ordinances  who  gloried 
in  his  shameful  love  for  another  woman! 

It  stunned  me.  One  moment  it  seemed  incredible, 
then  his  voice  sounded  clear  and  vibrant,  as  if  he  was 
still  in  the  room.  Had  we  parted  for  all  time?  A 
hundred  little  tendernesses  rushed  over  me.  The 
laughing,  teasing  eyes  that  could  hold  so  much  mean 
ing  looked  into  mine.  Oh,  he  must  have  loved  me  once 
and  I  had  tried  to  love  him,  yes,  sometimes  I  really 
had,  but  it  was  a  child's  love. 

"Ain't  any  one  comin'  to  dinner,  Mis'  Hayne?"  A 
peremptory  voice  rang  up  the  stairway. 

I  rose,  bathed  my  face,  although  there  were  no  tears 
to  wash  away,  and  went  down. 

"Mr.  Hayne  gone  away?"  inquired  Jolette. 

"Yes,"  I  answered  briefly. 

"An'  ye'r  father  out!  I  declar'  to  man  ther'  ain't 
much  sense  roastin'  ye'sself  on  a  hot  day  an'  no  one  to 
come  an'  eat  the  wittles!" 

I  glanced  over  the  table.    The  boiled  dinner  with  one 


i88        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

or  two  side  dishes  filled  me  with  disgust,  and  yet  I 
thought  how  Dan  would  have  enjoyed  it.  He  was 
hearty  in  everything.  He  had  a  big  frame  to  take  care 
of  and  he  did  not  stint  it. 

The  wagon  drove  up  and  Sim  helped  father  out. 
So  I  waited  until  he  was  ready  to  come. 

"The  Prairie  Bird  starts  out  at  two.  Has  Dan  been 
home?" 

"Yes,  and  gone,"  I  made  answer  briefly. 

He  glanced  sharply  at  me.  Jolette  was  too  near  for 
any  private  comment. 

"I  saw  him  down  by  the  elevator.  Well,  I  hope  he 
isn't  on  a  wild-goose  chase  that  will  bring  down  only 
a  few  feathers.  Wentworth  thinks  he's  years  too  early, 
but  they  may  find  gold  up  there  as  well  as  in  Califor 
nia,  and  copper  may  pan  out  in  a  valuable  way.  But 
I  think  he  was  foolish  putting  so  many  eggs  in  one 
basket.  He's  sold  Duke  to  Baubein." 

"He  cared  more  for  Chita." 

"There's  big  money  in  Duke.  He's  a  splendid 
trotter." 

I  tried  to  eat.  Father  was  hungry,  and  just  as  the 
pie  came  on  Ben  entered  and  had  some  dessert,  and 
there  followed  a  long  talk  with  father,  who  then  settled 
himself  in  an  easy  chair  for  his  nap. 

Had  Dan  really  told  the  truth?  Was  Polly  to  be 
his  companion?  How  would  it  come  out?  At  all 
events,  I  would  keep  my  own  counsel. 

It  had  been  a  pretty  warm  day  until  about  five,  when 
some  suspicious  clouds  went  scurrying  across  the  sky, 
and  a  blast  of  wind  seemed  to  come  off  of  an  iceberg. 


DAN  289 

We  shut  down  the  windows,  the  storm  rushed  up  so 
quickly.  Then  the  wind  fell.  In  a  little  while  there 
was  such  a  peculiar  light,  not  sunset,  it  obscured  the 
sun  even,  a  strange  yellow  glow  over  everything,  dark 
ening  and  yet  not  making  dark.  The  air  was  now 
very  still.  Men  went  hurrying  homeward. 

"There'll  be  a  big  storm,"  one  and  another  said  when 
they  came  within  hearing.  I  thought  of  the  two  out 
on  the  lake  and  how  Dan  disliked  the  water. 

There  had  been  a  curious  talk  about  the  end  of  the 
world  coming.  Jolette  was  afraid,  and  up  in  her  room 
prayed  mightily. 

"It  is  strange,"  father  said  over  and  over  again,  and 
he  watched  me  closely. 

After  a  while  it  grew  paler  and  that  gave  everything 
an  unearthly  glow.  Yet  it  looked  beautiful.  It  was 
nothing  like  sunset,  I  had  never  seen  such  a  light  be 
fore.  The  distant  cornfields  were  simply  magnificent. 
Trees  looked  as  if  they  were  painted  on  a  background, 
every  branch  and  twig  were  so  distinctly  outlined. 

Then  by  slow  degrees  it  faded,  growing  into  even 
ing  gradually.  There  had  been  no  sunset,  but  night 
was  coming  on  quietly  and  the  sky  was  a  smooth  gray. 

Ben  rushed  in  breathless. 

"Hasn't  it  all  been  queer?"  he  exclaimed.  "Mother 
was  sure  the  end  of  the  world  was  here.  They've  been 
preaching  it  a  good  deal  to  the  eastward.  Norme  in 
sisted  I  should  come  up  and  stay  all  night  with  you." 
How  good  the  old  name  sounded !  "He  could  manage 
mother  better.  I  never  saw  her  so  frightened.  Were 
you?" 


290         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"Well — the  world  is  going  to  be  destroyed  by  fire, 
but  it  wasn't  hot  enough  to  melt  the  fervent  elements, 
so  I  thought  we  were  safe,"  replied  father  jocosely. 

Then  they  began  about  the  prophecies,  and  how  in 
the  first  century  they  thought  Christ  would  come  the 
second  time  before  St.  John  died.  Father  had  been 
quite  a  great  Bible  reader  of  late  years.  We  spoke  of 
Dan,  too,  and  hoped  he  would  reach  his  destination 
safely.  Evidently  Ben  nor  mother  had  any  idea  he  had 
gone  to  stay,  or  that  there  was  anything  wrong.  I 
almost  persuaded  myself  I  had  dreamed  that  cruel, 
brutal  talk.  It  had  been  interspersed  with  not  a  little 
profanity.  I  hated  swearing. 

We  went  to  bed  at  length.  I  felt  so  sore  and  sad 
then,  with  all  my  life  in  ruins,  that  I  cried  softly  on  my 
pillow.  A  deserted  wife!  And  when  the  story  came 
out,  how  hard  all  the  gossip  would  be  to  hear ! 

The  Yankee  clock  in  the  hall  rattled  off  its  hours. 
It  always  struck  as  if  it  might  lose  a  second  of  time 
between  the  strokes.  Twelve !  The  eerie  hour.  What 
if  a  ghost  came  to  me !  Oh,  what  was  that ! 

An  awful  roar  of  something  coming  nearer  and 
nearer  and  then  breaking  into  a  thousand  shrieks.  I 
sprang  out  of  bed  and  screamed. 

Father  called  to  me,  "Come  in  here,  Ruth,"  and  I 
ran,  frightened  almost  out  of  life. 

I  suppose  there  had  been  such  tempests  before.  I 
know  there  have  been  since.  Ben  came  in  wrapped  in 
a  blanket  and  lighted  some  candles,  then  sat  on  the 
foot  of  father's  bed.  It  was  something  terrific.  The 
house  rocked,  we  heard  the  trees  crash  down,  the  cries 


DAN  291 

of  the  animals  and  the  frightened  poultry,  and  that 
mighty  roar  and  swirl  as  if  the  destruction  of  the  world 
had  begun.  We  were  so  near  the  lake  that  we  guessed 
what  an  ocean  tempest  must  be  with  the  great  waves 
pounding  up,  fighting  each  other  like  angry  armies. 

Then  it  began  to  rain.  A  great  fierce  deluge,  this 
way  and  that,  whirling,  beating,  changing  about, 
thrashing,  as  if  it  meant  to  crush  out  life,  the  world, 
everything.  Oh,  what  torrents!  It  stamped  on  the 
ground  in  its  rage.  It  beat  on  the  roof  as  if  it  meant  to 
crush  it  in,  and  was  all  the  uglier  for  being  foiled. 

I  snuggled  up  to  father  and  pressed  my  cheek  against 
his.  His  arm  was  around  me.  We  two,  henceforth, 
always.  And  what  of  the  other  two?  I  felt  the  boat 
must  have  put  in  somewhere.  It  should  have  been  a 
magnificent  night  with  the  moon  just  past  the  full.  I 
thought  of  the  ride  on  Chita  in  the  harvest  moonlight. 
Other  tender  remembrances  came  back  to  me,  and 
from  the  depths  of  my  soul  I  cried  to  God  for  their 
safety,  cried  mightily,  as  if  my  own  soul  was  at  stake. 

It  was  two  before  the  storm  began  to  abate  at  all, 
then  it  rained  steadily,  and  the  wind  raged,  but  not  so 
fiercely,  the  lake  roared  like  a  great  booming  cannon, 
but  the  house  had  stood  the  shock  and  we  were  safe. 
It  had  been  so  good  to  have  Ben.  Yet  it  was  curious 
we  had  none  of  us  once  spoken  Dan's  name,  though  I 
think  it  was  deep  in  our  hearts. 

The  skies  were  still  thick  in  the  morning,  as  if  layer 
after  layer  had  to  roll  away  before  it  could  clear.  The 
wind  had  mostly  ceased,  and  the  rain  held  up  now  and 
then  and  came  in  gusts  again. 


«92        A   LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Oh,  the  destruction  that  greeted  us !  The  lake  had 
been  loosed  it  seemed  and  swept  over  everything. 
Streets  were  rivers,  some  houses  had  been  carried  off 
their  foundations.  We  were  on  higher  ground,  but 
there  was  only  a  short  distance  between  us  and  this 
great  sea  the  wind  had  stirred  up. 

About  ten  the  clouds  began  to  lift  a  little  and  patches 
of  blue  struggled  here  and  there  and  were  submerged 
again.  Poor  Jolette  had  gone  almost  crazy  and  really 
had  not  wit  enough  left  to  get  breakfast.  Ben  and  I 
helped,  but  all  the  life  had  been  wrenched  out  of  me. 
One  of  the  outbuildings  had  gone  over,  but  the  barn 
and  stable  and  hennery  were  intact. 

By  noon  Norman  came  over,  waded  over,  for  he  was 
mud  up  to  his  knees.  The  instant  I  looked  into  his 
kindly,  pitying  eyes  I  felt  he  shared  my  secret.  I  did 
not  dare  give  him  a  second  glance,  for  I  knew  I  should 
cry  out  in  anguish. 

After  an  hour  or  two  the  sun  came  out,  as  if  quite 
ashamed  of  the  destruction  the  wretched  myrmidons 
of  storm  had  wrought.  And  we  heard  how  wharves 
and  storehouses  had  been  submerged,  vessels  torn 
away  and  wrecked,  swept  down  to  the  end  of  the  lake, 
and  such  destruction  as  had  never  come  upon  us  before, 
as  there  had  not  been  so  much  to  destroy. 

It  was  several  days  before  the  damage  could  really 
be  estimated.  The  waters  subsided,  the  lake  took  her 
mud  and  ooze  and  overflow.  The  sun  shone  as  if  it 
was  glad  to  help  dry  up  and  restore,  and  the  blue  skies 
smiled,  the  winds  seemed  as  if  led  by  a  child. 

Some  of  the  corn  had  been  cut  and  stacked,  and  the 


DAN  293 

rest,  though  beaten  down,  was  so  fully  ripened  there 
would  not  be  a  great  loss.  Most  of  the  grains  had 
been  cut  and  housed. 

"I  declare,  Gaynor,  you  do  have  the  best  luck  of  any 
one  I  know,"  said  a  neighbor. 

It  seemed  so.  Father  was  really  a  rich  man,  but 
most  of  it  had  come  through  thrift. 

I  felt  weak  and  miserable.  I  was  holding  my  breath 
for  some  blow  that  would  surely  strike,  and  when  I 
looked  in  any  one's  face  I  felt  as  if  I  must  scream. 

Norman  came  up  on  the  porch  one  afternoon.  I 
was  walking  slowly  downstairs,  and  halted  in  the  hall. 
I  did  not  hear  what  father  asked,  but  Norman  an 
swered  : 

"Yes.  They  have  heard.  The  Prairie  Bird  ran 
ashore  on  some  rocks  that  stove  a  hole  in  her,  and  then 
was  blown  out  to  sea  again.  Only  a  few  were  saved, 
two  or  three  of  the  sailors.  But  that  isn't  the  worst 
news  to  face.  It  is  going  all  over  now.  Poor  Ruth! 
If  she  might  never  know!  For — how  can  I  tell  it? 
My  own  brother,  too !" 

I  stepped  out.  I  suppose  I  must  have  looked  like  a 
ghost.  Norman  stretched  out  his  arms,  but  I  tottered 
to  father. 

"I  know,"  I  said,  trying  to  steady  my  voice  that 
seemed  blown  about  by  the  stress  of  emotion.  "Dan 
told  me  that  day.  They  loved  each  other  and  went 
away  together." 

"And  were  found  dead,  locked  in  each  other's  arms." 

I  fell  over  into  father's  chair.  That  was  the  last 
I  knew  for  a  long  while. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HOW    NORMAN    CAME   HOME 

THOSE  years  abroad  had  been  very  precious  years  to 
me  in  spite  of  the  great  disappointment  of  not  return 
ing  home  at  the  promised  time.  I  found  Mr.  Le  Moyne 
a  charming  gentleman,  and  was  not  made  in  any  de 
gree  a  servant,  but  treated  like  a  relative.  I  knew 
afterward  that  he  took  a  great  fancy  to  me  from  what 
Mr.  Harris  said,  and,  as  he  told  me,  "he  liked  my  face." 
I  kept  accounts  for  him,  wrote  letters,  read  aloud, 
studied  and  wrote  to  the  Little  Girl  and  my  mother  as 
often  as  I  could.  She  was  such  an  innocent  little  girl, 
and  so  sweet,  so  altogether  different  from  the  girls  I 
had  come  in  contact  with. 

When  we  went  to  Washington,  where  Mr.  Le  Moyne 
was  entrusted  with  a  very  delicate  mission  that  was 
not  to  be  put  into  writing,  he  decided  to  go  abroad  at 
once,  as  his  eyes  were  causing  him  great  uneasiness. 
We  would  not  need  to  remain  more  than  a  year,  he 
thought.  But  months  passed,  he  was  improving  so 
much  that  the  oculist  thought  he  ought  not  break  with 
the  treatment.  It  was  one  thing  and  another.  He 
came  to  depend  so  wholly  upon  me.  And  I  never  had 


HOW  NORMAN  CAME   HOME  295 

the  courage  to  tell  him  I  had  left  a  little  girl  in  Chicago 
that  I  desired  sometime  to  make  my  wife. 

I  used  to  say  things  in  letters  that  I  hoped  she 
would  take  up,  that  might  pique  her  curiosity,  but  they 
did  not  rouse  her.  If  I  wrote  to  her,  and  she  had  no 
especial  love  for  me,  that  would  end  it.  And  how  hard 
it  would  be  to  have  a  long  engagement.  I  was  a  little 
afraid  of  my  brother  Ben,  who  had  somehow  stepped 
into  my  place,  yet  it  seemed  mean  to  grudge  him  any 
happiness  if  he  could  win  her.  Then  Mr.  Le  Moyne's 
health  began  to  break  and  his  eyesight  fail,  with  some 
new  complication.  He  asked  me  never  to  leave  him 
while  he  lived.  I  could  not  deny  him.  So  I  trusted 
my  Little  Girl  to  God.  If  she  was  for  me  it  would  all 
come  right  in  time.  I  was  having  a  rich,  full  life  and 
developing  in  many  directions.  I  did  have  a  great  deal 
of  the  finest  enjoyment. 

But  when  I  heard  that  Dan  had  married  my  darling 
Ruth  I  was  as  one  struck  dumb  with  amazement.  He 
was  a  big,  strong,  burly  fellow,  full  of  life  and  jollity, 
and  not  over-refined.  But  then  I  reflected  Chicago 
was  not  Paris,  or  London,  or  Rome,  or  Florence.  It 
was  a  hard  blow  to  me.  I  had  no  duty  left  but  to 
devote  myself  to  my  benefactor.  No  father  and  son 
could  have  lived  in  finer  accord,  or  had  tastes  more  in 
unison.  I  was  glad  that  I  could  comfort  him  in  his 
misfortune. 

His  health  failed  gradually,  and  the  end  came  in 
peace.  He  had  dealt  very  generously  by  me.  I  found 
it  would  take  a  long  time  to  settle  the  estate,  and  re 
solved  to  return  home  for  part  of  a  year  at  least. 


296        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

How  everything  had  changed!  Chicago  had  made 
great  strides,  increased  her  business,  widened  her  bor 
ders.  Fresh  from  beautiful  cities  that  had  taken  hun 
dreds  of  years  in  their  growth,  this  had  hardly  begun. 
What  was  a  place  thirty  or  so  years  old  compared  to 
their  centuries  of  advancement ! 

Dickens  had  been  over  and  touched  up  the  West 
with  his  caustic  pen.  Many  people  in  Europe  seemed 
to  think  we  as  a  nation  were  reverting  to  the  Indian 
type  and  lived  in  wigwams.  I  was  astonished  at  times 
at  the  little  our  neighbors  really  knew  about  us,  com 
pared  with  our  knowledge  of  the  different  European 
countries. 

After  all  my  fascinating  rambling  about,  and  my 
different  attainments,  this  was  home,  and  a  man's 
birthplace  and  his  boyhood  remembrances  are  always 
dear  to  him.  Two  lines  of  a  poem  credited  to  Stoddard 
always  suggest  this  meeting  to  me: 

"My  mother  fell  on  my  neck  and  wept, 
She  kissed  me  and  then  she  sighed. 
And  our  hearts  were  filled  with  a  silent  grief 
For    *    *    *    *    the  one  who  had  died," 

and  that  was  father. 

Chris  was  home  to  supper.  Homer  and  his  wife 
came  in.  Sophie  had  been  a  great  friend  of  the  Little 
Girl's  I  remembered.  Oh,  how  dear  and  sweet  it  was. 
Mother  kept  studying  me — she  had  in  her  mind  the 
boy  who  went  away. 

All  the  next  morning  the  house  was  thronged  with 
callers.  Mother  was  proud  as  a  queen.  Then  I  ran 
away  and  went  over  to  the  Gaynors',  hoping  they  had 


HOW  NORMAN  CAME  HOME      297 

not  heard.  I  had  my  wish.  There  seemed  no  one  at 
home.  The  doors  stood  hospitably  open  and  I  entered. 
Then  I  caught  sight  of  the  girl  who  had  never  been 
out  of  my  mind  all  these  years.  I  came  upon  her 
unaware,  and  we  stood  face  to  face  reading  the  inmost 
secrets  of  each  other's  souls,  knowing  what  might  have 
been,  what  we  had  lost.  She  put  out  her  hand  a  little 
blindly  and  then  she  fell  into  my  arms.  I  caught  her 
and  saved  her  from  dropping  on  the  floor. 

I  carried  her  to  the  settle  and  laid  her  down.  She 
was  as  beautiful  as  any  statue  I  had  ever  seen.  The 
straight  Greek  nose  with  its  thin  nostrils,  the  rounded 
chin  with  a  faint  dimple,  the  perfect  brows,  the  tendrils 
of  hair  that  were  like  cloud-like  vapor,  so  light  and 
showing  the  white  skin  through.  I  glanced  a  moment, 
then  I  kissed  her  with  the  pent-up  love  of  years,  brow 
and  lids  with  their  long  brown  lashes,  mouth  and  chin, 
but  she  lay  like  a  form  in  marble,  as  if  the  tenderest 
passion  could  not  rouse  her. 

Then  I  called  for  help.  A  black  woman  came,  and, 
frightened,  she  ran  for  a  neighbor.  I  tried  chafing  the 
hands.  I  called  her  endearing  names,  and  then  I  re 
membered  she  was  my  brother's  wife,  but  she  was  my 
darling,  nevertheless. 

When  Mrs.  Miller  came,  Jolette,  the  black  woman, 
skirmished  up  a  bottle  of  liniment  and  one  of  camphor. 

"Is  there  any  brandy  or  whiskey?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,"  and  she  went  for  that.  Just  then  John 
Gaynor  came  in,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  would  faint  as 
well.  But  between  us  all  we  presently  had  her  re 
stored. 


298         A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

"I  took  her  too  suddenly,"  I  began  in  apology. 

"What  did  she  say  ?"    He  eyed  me  sharply. 

"She  had  not  time  for  even  a  word  of  welcome,"  I 
answered.  "Is  she  well?" 

He  shook  his  head  with  a  reluctant  dubiousness. 
"I'm  afraid  she  isn't  quite,"  was  the  slow  reply. 

I  noticed  then  that  she  was  very  thin.  You  could 
see  the  blue  veins  in  her  arms  and  hands  as  well  as  her 
temples. 

She  made  light  of  it,  though  I  understood  she  was 
a  little  frightened,  as  she  had  never  fainted  before. 
Then  Mrs.  Miller  suggested  we  take  her  out  on  the 
porch,  where  it  was  cooler,  and  we  packed  her  in  a 
rocking  chair.  I  fanned  her  slowly.  Her  father 
placed  his  chair  beside  her.  How  he  did  love  her.  It 
shone  in  every  line  of  his  face,  which  seemed  to  have 
taken  on  a  certain  kind  of  refinement  that  had  perhaps 
come  from  the  invalidism.  I  noticed  that  he  used 
great  care  in  sitting  down  and  getting  up,  and  that  he 
was  very  lame. 

I  was  fain  to  go  away,  not  that  I  really  wanted  to, 
but  Mr.  Gaynor  insisted  on  my  staying  to  supper.  Dan 
was  absent,  and  he  plied  me  so  with  questions  that  we 
were  summoned  to  supper  before  I  had  answered  half 
of  them.  Afterward  we  went  out  again.  Ruth  had  the 
chair  tilted  back  almost  like  a  couch.  How  slim  and 
graceful  she  was,  most  like  to  a  willow  wand.  And 
her  sweet  face  told  the  story  to  me  that  she  was  trying 
to  make  herself  happy  and  content  in  a  life  that  did  not 
fill  her  heart,  and  was  slowly  sapping  her  strength. 

How   we   talked   all   the   evening.     She   held   her 


HOW  NORMAN  CAME    HOME  299 

father's  hand — it  showed  little  marks  of  toil  now  and 
was  shapely  enough,  but  not  as  white  as  hers. 
And  when  I  went  away  John  Gaynor  wrung  my  hand 
with  subtle,  meaning  strength. 

"You  will  come  in  often,"  he  said.  "We  are  so  glad 
to  get  you  back." 

How  had  these  two  people  come  to  marry?  I 
learned  some  of  the  causes  afterward.  I  was  anxious 
to  see  her  and  Dan  together. 

I  had  warm  enough  welcomes  everywhere.  The 
interviewer  had  not  come  into  existence,  but  I  went  to 
the  office  of  the  Prairie  Farmer  and  saw  young  John. 
Then  there  was  the  Journal,  a  new  friend  in  what  was 
then  the  Saloon  Building.  There  was  a  daily  Tribune, 
rather  shaky  on  its  legs,  in  an  old  wooden  shanty  at 
Lake  and  Clark  streets.  The  Hon.  John  Wentworth, 
of  my  father's  old  love,  the  Democrat,  was  on  La  Salle 
Street  in  quite  grand  quarters,  the  printing  room 
boasting  a  Hoe  press  from  New  York.  And  there  was 
a  bookstore,  laying  a  foundation  of  one  of  the  great 
publishing  houses  in  years  to  come. 

There  was  the  old  jail  built,  as  the  contract  called 
for,  "of  logs  firmly  bolted  together,"  and  the  Court 
House  I  had  never  seen  before,  on  the  northeast  cor 
ner  of  the  square.  It  had  offices  on  the  lower  floor, 
but  they  were  talking  of  a  new  one,  as  it  was  too  small. 
There  was  gas  in  some  of  the  principal  streets.  But  the 
wharves  and  the  grain  elevator  had  improved  most  of 
all,  and  the  packing  house  was  quite  an  institution. 
Railroads  were  planned  in  almost  every  direction  and 
the  canal  was  an  established  fact. 


300         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

Dan  returned  a  few  days  after.  He  was  a  big,  hand 
some  animal,  not  gross,  but  with  the  material  in  every 
line,  the  intellectual  in  scarcely  none.  He  was  shrewd, 
jolly,  forceful  in  all  business  matters,  and  had  a  laugh 
ing  face  that  won  more  by  its  good  humor  than  his 
argument.  I  had  once  thought  he  might  be  some 
thing  of  a  politician,  but  he  was  all  business.  Ben 
would  take  up  that  line.  Our  Senators  were  Messrs. 
Douglas  and  Shields,  the  Stephen  A.  Douglas  I  had 
gone  to  hear  speak  long  ago.  They  had  won  a  grant 
of  land  from  Congress  for  a  railroad  from  Chicago  to 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 

The  gold  fields  had  not  taken  as  many  of  our  men 
as  I  fancied  it  would.  The  unfortunate  revolutions  in 
Germany  and  Hungary  had  sent  an  influx  of  immi 
grants  over,  many  well-informed  people  among  them, 
ready  and  anxious  to  work  for  homes  in  the  new 
country,  many  of  them  farmers. 

Mother  was  a  very  happy  woman.  I  am  not  sure 
but  Chris  came  the  nearest  to  her  heart.  He  was  her 
last  baby,  and  he  had  a  religious  tendency  that  har 
monized  strongly  with  her  now.  She  was  proud  to 
have  him  preparing  for  the  life  of  a  clergyman. 
Homer's  children  were  her  delight.  They  were  merry, 
pretty  things  and  in  exuberant  health. 

She  felt  somehow  curiously  about  Dan,  though  his 
marriage  had  not  settled  him  quite  as  much  as  she  had 
hoped.  Ruth  was  a  lovely  wife,  but  it  was  a  pity  there 
were  no  children,  when  there  was  likely  to  be  so  much 
money  on  both  sides. 

Because  I  loved  her  so  and  had  been  betrayed  into 


HOW  NORMAN  CAME  HOME      301 

that  one  impassioned  moment  I  was  very  careful.  I 
went  there  when  I  was  almost  sure  Mr.  Gaynor  would 
be  around.  And  Dan,  I  found,  was  seldom  home  of  an 
evening.  Both  Ruth  and  her  father  never  tired  of 
hearing  about  my  travels  and  Mr.  Le  Moyne. 

Then  a  curious  whisper  seemed  to  pervade  the  air 
about  Dan,  that  he  went  a  good  deal  to  the  Morrisons'. 
He  had  been  making  some  investments  for  Polly.  I 
ventured  to  call  one  day,  but  the  house  was  shut  up. 
Polly  went  out  very  little  among  her  old  friends,  it 
seeemed.  It  was  reported  that  her  rich  marriage  had 
not  left  her  a  rich  widow. 

Dan  was  very  much  interested  in  the  copper  at  Lake 
Superior,  and  planning  to  make  a  journey  thither. 
But  Sophie  one  day  roused  my  indignation  by  telling 
me  that  Dan  spent  nearly  every  evening  at  the  Mor 
risons',  and  that  occasionally  Polly  stole  out  to  a  lane 
below,  little  frequented,  and  met  Dan  and  drove  off 
with  him. 

I  knew  after  seeing  Dan  and  Ruth  together  a  few 
times  that  whatever  love  he  had  once  had  for  her  no 
longer  existed.  He  was  not  rough  to  her,  but  cruelly 
indifferent.  Did  she  still  care  for  him,  or  was  this  only 
a  semblance,  this  sweet  devotion  that  would  have  won 
any  man's  heart  twice  over?  She  clung  so  closely  to 
her  father.  There  never  could  be  a  tenderer  affection. 

One  evening  I  resolved  to  learn  the  truth  of  Sophie's 
story.  From  the  Gaynors'  I  went  down  to  the  Morri 
sons',  a  long  walk.  The  house  was  all  in  darkness  ex 
cept  a  faint  glimmer  at  the  kitchen  end.  I  crept  softly 
up,  when  a  low  growl  from  a  bulldog  fairly  curdled 


3oz        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

my  blood.  I  could  not  see  where  he  was,  and  re 
traced  my  steps  cautiously.  The  next  day  I  planned 
differently.  I  stationed  myself  at  an  intersection  of 
streets,  they  were  not  much  beside  lanes,  and  sat  down 
under  a  tree  to  wait.  There  was  no  moon,  and  at  first 
a  rather  hazy  sky,  but  it  cleared  presently  into  magnifi 
cent  starlight. 

From  my  point  I  could  see  down  to  the  house.  It 
was  all  a  blur  at  first,  but  by  degrees  I  became  so  ac 
customed  to  it  that  I  could  discern  the  outlines  of  all 
between.  A  tree  partly  hid  the  side,  but  the  front  was 
dimly  visible. 

It  was  ten  when  I  took  up  my  vigil.  Eleven,  half- 
past.  Perhaps  I  was  on  a  fool's  errand.  Then — yes, 
there  were  two  figures  stepping  out  in  the  open  space. 
They  found  parting  such  "sweet  sorrow"  that  it 
seemed  as  if  they  would  say  "Good-night  'til  it  were 
morrow."  Their  arms  were  about  each  other,  their 
faces  turned  from  me,  but  close  together.  A  long, 
long  embrace,  then  Dan  started  away  swiftly. 

I  rose.  He  took  the  other  way,  but  I  stepped  over 
there. 

"Dan,"  I  exclaimed,  steady  voiced,  "Dan!" 

"Who  the  devil  are  you  ?"  sharply. 

"Norman  Hayne,  and  I  want  to  talk  with  you.  I 
know  where  you  spend  nearly  every  evening." 

Dan  whipped  out  his  pistol  and  uttered  an  oath. 
"You've  been  spying  on  me,  and  it's  the  last  time 
you'll  spy  on  anybody,  you  mean  sneak." 

I  put  up  my  hand.  We  were  facing  each  other,  and 
we  were  both  of  a  height.  My  heart  was  unprotected. 


HOW  NORMAN   CAME   HOME  303 

"See  here,  Dan,"  I  said  calmly,  "you  could  shoot  me 
and  my  dead  body  might  be  found  in  the  morning. 
That  is  not  all.  Before  noon  Chicago  would  know  the 
name  of  the  murderer  and  his  connection  with  the 
woman  down  there.  If  you  are  willing  to  yield  up 
your  life  and  draw  down  obloquy  on  the  woman  you 
have  just  left,  then  shoot." 

Dan  still  held  the  pistol. 

"That  devil  of  a  Gaynor  put  you  on  the  track,  curse 
him,"  in  a  vengeful  tone. 

"No,  I  do  not  think  he  suspects  such  a  thing.  He 
imagines  you  at  the  hotel  talking  business  and  playing 
cards,  and  he  is  proud  that  you  come  home  sober.  It 
is  from  this  neighborhood  the  report  has  spread.  You 
have  taken  her  out  driving.  Your  true  wife  that  you 
must  have  cared  for  when  you  married  owns  your 
fealty.  I  do  not  need  to  read  you  a  lecture,  you  know 
what  you  are  doing  and  the  end  will  be  a  scandal  that 
will  not  raise  you  in  any  one's  estimation  and  break  her 
heart.  It  will  also  drag  down  the  other  woman." 

"A  miserable  puling,  white-livered  thing  who  has  no 
heart  to  break,  who  cares  nothing  for  love,  could  not 
understand  it !"  he  flung  out. 

"Why  did  you  marry  her?  Why  not  have  taken 
Polly  at  first?"  I  questioned  sternly. 

"Because  I  was  a  blind,  dumb  fool  all  the  way 
through.  And  when  she  married  I  thought  that  the 
end  of  it." 

"And  when  you  married,  that  was  the  honorable  end 
of  it." 

"No,  it  wasn't  the  end  at  all.    Love  with  fire  in  it 


304         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

may  smoulder,  but  it  breaks  out  into  a  flame  if  one  stirs 
among  the  ashes." 

Dan  suddenly  put  away  his  pistol. 

"See  here,  Norme,  I'll  admit  the  whole  thing  is 
wrong.  But  a  love  like  that  sweeps  a  man  off  his  feet. 
I'm  going  away  presently  and  shall  be  absent  two  or 
three  months,  and  maybe  I'll  get  over  it.  You  see,  Polly 
had  some  troublesome  business  to  settle.  She  wasn't 
left  at  all  well  off  by  that  miserable  old  weasel  of  a 
Frenchman.  I  made  some  investments  for  her,  and 
somehow  her  story  was  a  sad  one  and  she  had  been 
my  old  love,  and  now  that  I  am  going  away — Ruth  is 
good  enough,  but  she  isn't  my  kind.  Maybe  up  there 
all  alone  I'll  straighten  matters  out  and  come  to  my 
senses,  and  when  I  return  things  may  go  better  with 
us.  Polly  and  her  mother  are  going  to  Vincennes  to 
live.  She  doesn't  feel  at  home  in  this  old  mud  hole  any 
more.  So  that's  the  whole  of  it.  I'm  all-fired  sorry, 
Norman,  that  I  went  at  you  so,  but  the  thought  of 
being  spied  upon  made  me  thundering  mad." 

The  whole  thing  rang  false.  Yet  I  could  not  contro 
vert  it.  He  was  going  away.  About  Polly  I  could  not 
tell.  Perhaps  she  had  planned  to  follow  him. 

"Dan,"  I  said — "on  your  word  and  honor?" 

"As  God  hears  me,"  he  answered  solemnly. 

"You  would  break  your  mother's  heart  as  well,  and 
disgrace  us  all.  And  the  way  Ruth  looks,  it  doesn't 
seem  to  me  you  will  have  to  wait  long  for  your 
freedom.  She  is  almost  transparent." 

"Oh,  those  thin  people  are  wiry.  She's  always 
looked  so.  She'll  live  to  be  eighty." 


HOW  NORMAN  CAME   HOME  305 

"She  was  a  rosy  little  girl." 

"Well,  you  just  trust  me,  I've  given  my  word." 

Here  was  where  I  had  to  turn  off  to  mother's,  and 
we  said  good-night. 

Dan  was  not  home  the  next  evening,  but  if  he  went 
to  the  Morrisons'  he  took  another  way  and  entered  by 
the  garden.  And  there  was  a  bright  light  in  the  parlor 
that  fronted  the  street. 

I  could  only  wait.  I  knew  people  bent  on  an  intrigue 
could  outwit  the  keenest  eyes. 

Dan  came  over  to  say  good-by  to  mother,  and  was 
so  tender  it  brought  tears  to  her  eyes  as  she  told  it 
over.  He  was  most  cordial  to  Sophie  and  the  children. 
I  went  down  to  see  him  off  and  he  shook  hands  in  a 
friendly  manner.  It  was  a  splendid  day.  I  thought 
I  would  go  to  the  Morrisons'  that  evening  to  see  if  all 
was  right,  but  there  came  up  a  curious  threatening 
blow.  I  spent  the  evening  with  mother.  She  was  very 
proud  of  Dan  and  was  delighted  to  think  he  had  given 
up  drinking  to  any  excess.  Liquor  drinking  was  a 
very  common  thing  even  among  respectable  people, 
but  drunkenness  was  beginning  to  be  frowned  upon. 

About  midnight  the  storm  broke.  We  did  not  feel 
it  so  much  here,  but  the  roar  of  the  elements  was  some 
thing  frightful.  I  am  sure  I  had  never  known  such  a 
storm.  The  wreck  and  damage  were  terrible.  Mother 
was  almost  crazy  about  Dan. 

I  made  my  way  to  the  Gaynors'  about  mid-afternoon. 
Their  house  was  solidly  built  of  brick  and  they  had 
suffered  very  slight  damage.  Ruth  was  a  pale  little 
ghost  and  her  sapphire-blue  eyes  asked  wordless 


3©6        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

questions.  None  of  us  spoke  of  the  Prairie  Bird.  It 
was  too  soon  to  hear. 

The  lake  seemed  strewn  with  wrecks.  At  the  ware 
houses  everybody  was  appalled.  The  only  hope  was 
that  any  boat  seeing  the  storm  coming  up  would  run  to 
shelter. 

Four  days  afterward  a  sailor,  escaped  from  the 
wreck,  came  into  Chicago  and  told  the  story.  Of  the 
bodies  that  were  beaten  up  ashore  there  were  two 
locked  in  each  other's  arms — Dan  Hayne  and  Polly 
Maseurier — and  they  were  buried  together.  The  best 
cabin  had  been  engaged  for  her  and  she  had  come 
aboard  in  the  morning.  They  had  partaken  of  a  gay 
supper  together,  and  now  it  seemed  half  the  men  sus 
pected  she  would  flit  with  him.  He  had  been  selling 
out  his  Galena  interest  and  most  of  his  property. 
Chita  had  been  taken  with  them,  and  she,  too,  had 
found  a  watery  grave. 

I  must  go  to  the  Gaynors  before  some  one  rudely 
bruited  the  tragedy  to  them.  John  Gaynor  could  break 
the  news  more  tenderly  to  his  child.  I  was  glad  to 
find  him  on  the  porch  in  the  old  reclining  chair,  reading 
his  paper. 

I  don't  remember  how  I  told  it.  I  think  I  left  some 
thing  to  be  inferred.  I  did  not  hear  Mr.  Gaynor's 
question,  for  a  white  wraith  glided  out  on  the  porch. 
The  soft  light  hair  framed  in  the  sweet,  deathlike  face, 
but  the  clear  eyes  shone  out  with  an  unearthly  light.  I 
would  have  caught  her,  but  she  went  straight  to  her 
father. 

"I  know,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  like  a  low- 


HOW  NORMAN  CAME   HOME  307 

toned  bell  shaken  wildly  about.  "Dan  told  me  that 
day.  They  loved  each  other  and  went  away  together." 

Then  she  fell  into  her  father's  lap. 

I  lifted  her  to  the  settle,  limp  and  lifeless.  It  seemed 
as  if  she  had  lost  all  her  flesh  during  these  days  that 
she  had  carried  her  secret.  Was  her  heart  broken? 
My  poor  Little  Girl!  My  poor  Little  Girl! 

I  went  for  the  doctor  presently.  All  night  she  lapsed 
from  one  faint  to  another,  and  was  left  as  near  lifeless 
as  any  human  body  could  be.  Mr.  Gaynor  watched 
her  dry  eyed,  but  with  such  an  expression  of  despair 
as  is  seldom  concentrated  in  any  countenance.  He 
would  place  his  cold  hand  in  mine,  that  was  so  vigorous 
and  warm,  that  I  felt  almost  ashamed.  I  had  given 
her  up  to  Dan,  I  could  not  give  her  up  to  death. 

After  two  days  fever  set  in.  It  was  not  raging  or 
violent,  but  the  lassitude  was  painful  to  witness.  The 
boys  were  both  going  away,  and  I  persuaded  mother  to 
shut  her  house  and  come  up.  Her  sorrow  was  heart 
breaking,  but  she  knew  it  was  still  worse  for  Ruth. 

The  result  of  the  storm  was  being  cleared  away  and 
repaired.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  talk,  to  be  sure, 
and  the  men  who  had  liked  Dan  best  blamed  Polly 
bitterly.  Others  did  not  see  how  he  could  have  thrown 
up  his  prospects  for  any  woman,  for  it  was  admitted 
if  all  went  well  with  Mr.  Gaynor  and  Chicago  Ruth 
would  be  no  mean  heiress. 

Sad  as  it  was  to  watch  day  and  night  with  only  a 
mere  thread  of  hope,  it  took  mother  and  Ruth  out  of 
the  head  of  the  gossip.  I  looked  after  Mr.  Gaynor's 
affairs  as  well  as  I  could,  and  there  were  some  matters 


of  Dan's  left  unsettled.  He  must  have  taken  a  consid 
erable  amount  of  money  with  him,  but  whether  it  was 
in  the  bottom  of  the  lake  or  buried  with  him  no  one 
was  ever  to  know. 

After  a  month  or  so  Ruth  began  to  evince  a  slow 
improvement.  "If  she  had  enough  strength  to  pull 
through,"  the  doctor  said  with  a  faint  inflection  in  his 
voice  that  sounded  like  hope  to  the  waiting,  longing 
ear.  She  could  not  have  had  a  tenderer  nurse  than 
mother,  and  womanly  care  and  sympathy  exceeds  that 
of  the  most  loving  man. 

Through  this  time  I  learned  by  bits  and  snatches 
how  this  ill-fated  marriage  had  come  about.  And 
although  at  first  Mr.  Gaynor  could  have  rejoiced  over 
Dan's  untimely  end,  he  had  built  high  hopes  on  him 
and  would  have  loved  him  like  a  son.  Even  now  he 
referred  to  the  kindly  things  Dan  had  done  for  him  in 
his  illness,  and  I  could  see  Dan  had  held  many  fascina 
tions  for  him.  But  when  he  wanted  to  get  all  the 
property  interests  into  his  hands  and  began  to  treat 
Ruth  with  indifference  all  the  fatherly  feelings  were 
roused.  Then  he  had  grudged  young  John  Gaynor 
the  relationship. 

I  could  not  but  admire  the  wise  and  kindly  reticence 
he  observed  in  speaking  of  Dan.  Of  course  there  was 
no  glossing  over  the  last  cruel  insult  to  Ruth,  but  poor 
Dan  had  paid  for  it  with  his  life,  Polly  as  well. 

I  had  many  plans  in  my  mind  through  this  time. 
Go  back  to  Paris  I  must.  The  boys  had  gone  to  their 
different  institutions,  and  that  left  mother  alone. 
Homer  wanted  her  to  rent  the  house  and  live  with 


HOW  NORMAN   CAME    HOME  309 

them.  Then  in  watching  Mr.  Gaynor  it  seemed  to  me 
that  something  might  still  be  done  for  him.  Surgery  in 
Paris  had  made  rapid  strides.  There  were  splendidly 
equipped  hospitals,  perhaps  I  might  find  them  in 
New  York  or  Philadelphia,  but  I  could  not  go  there  to 
stay.  If  I  might  take  them  all  to  Paris  with  me, 
mother  as  companion  and  chaperone  for  Ruth. 

I  advanced  my  plans  very  cautiously.  Ruth's  wel 
fare  was  my  first  point.  She  did  not  get  along  rapidly. 
The  doctor  had  insisted  on  having  her  beautiful  hair 
cut,  and  it  was  now  a  mass  of  rings,  like  silken  floss. 
She  seemed  to  have  gone  back  to  childhood,  her  face 
was  so  small  and  wore  such  a  look  of  timid  entreaty. 
Her  eyes  were  still  like  the  midnight  blue  of  the  sky 
and  their  expression  penetrated  one's  very  soul  with 
their  infinite  pathos. 

Mr.  Gaynor  at  first  considered  a  journey  abroad  for 
himself  an  impossibility  with  his  farming  interest.  It 
did  puzzle  me  a  little  to  know  how  this  could  be  man 
aged.  And  when  I  was  about  discouraged  in  my 
search  for  a  capable  person  Providence  sent  him  right 
in  my  way.  Since  the  unfortunate  struggle  in  Hun 
gary  we  had  received  many  immigrants  of  the  better 
class  who  had  largely  drifted  to  the  West  in  search  for 
land.  Homer  had  taken  a  young  man  to  work  for  him 
when  he  had  spent  his  little  all.  He  and  his  father  had 
been  successful  wheat  growers,  but  their  farms  had 
been  confiscated.  The  young  man  had  left  his  wife 
and  two  little  ones  and  the  mother  with  friends,  hop 
ing  soon  to  be  able  to  send  for  them,  but  they  found  it 
very  hard  to  get  at  anything  without  money. 


jio        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

I  asked  them  to  come  over  and  spend  an  evening 
with  us.  John  Gaynor  was  much  interested  in  them, 
for  both  were  intelligent,  though  speaking  rather 
broken  English.  They  discussed  the  possibility  of 
buying  government  land  and  tilling  it,  and  exploited 
their  own  methods,  which  were  not  behind  ours,  but 
their  markets  were. 

The  upshot  of  this  was  at  the  proper  time  my  plan 
of  having  them  as  overseers,  living  in  the  house  and 
looking  after  everything. 

"It  would  be  a  godsend  to  them,"  said  Mr.  Gaynor. 
"They  could  get  quite  forehanded.  These  are  the  kind 
of  citizens  we  need." 

I  left  the  leaven  to  work  without  any  needless 
stirring  up.  Then  I  sought  to  persuade  my  mother 
that  it  was  her  duty  to  go  for  Ruth's  sake.  Since  one 
of  ours  had  so  nearly  wrecked  her  life  surely  we  ought 
to  strive  to  repair  it. 

"An  old  country  woman  like  me,"  she  cried  in  a 
kind  of  indignation.  "A  woman  who  has  baked  and 
brewed,  and  washed  and  ironed,  milked  and  churned, 
and  spun  and  spent  the  best  of  her  life  waiting  on  men 
folk  !  A  pretty  sight  I  would  be  to  go  to  Paris !" 

"We  should  not  expect  to  live  at  court,"  I  laughed. 
"I  was  quite  an  ignorant  lad  when  I  went  there.  And 
if  it  was  best  for  both  Ruth  and  her  father  ?  She  could 
not  go  without  you." 

It  did  take  a  good  deal  of  argument  and  persuasion 
as  well  as  good  temper,  but  at  last  I  gained  my  point. 
We  had  the  father,  Michael  Sontieff,  come  and  stay 
with  us  and  found  him  clear  minded  and  a  really  able 


HOW  NORMAN  CAME  HOME     311 

man.  They  could  send  for  the  family  at  once.  The 
mother  and  the  young  wife  had  some  money  of  their 
own  and  were  most  anxious  to  rejoin  their  husbands. 

So  the  matter  was  settled  to  my  great  delight. 
Ruth  was  willing  to  do  anything.  I  did  not  like  the 
apathy,  though  it  was  so  sweet  one  could  not  chide  her. 

Mother  was  still  an  energetic  woman.  And  now  that 
there  was  some  real  work  devolving  upon  her,  she  was 
happy  and  cheerful.  Her  best  belongings  were  sent 
to  Sophie's  and  her  house  rented.  She  packed  away 
the  choicest  of  the  Gaynors',  she  looked  up  the  articles 
and  clothing  we  needed  for  our  journey. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  was  going  on  a  fool's  errand,"  said 
John  Gaynor  emphatically,  "but  if  Ruth  can  recover 
her  health  and  forget  the  sad  tragedy  I  shall  be 
repaid." 

The  Sontieffs  came  in  delighted.  Young  John  was 
most  loth  to  have  us  go.  He  had  the  making  of  a 
newspaper  man  in  him,  he  would  never  have  been  a 
successful  practical  farmer. 

We  went  to  New  York,  and  the  middle  of  April  we 
sailed  for  Liverpool.  It  was  a  pleasant  voyage  and 
the  ocean  trip  did  seem  to  revive  the  drooping  Little 
Girl. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  PASSING  OF  OLD   CHICAGO 

THAT  two  years  abroad  was  like  a  happy  dream,  the 
romance  of  our  lives.  Everything  was  queer  to  my 
travellers  at  first.  Ruth  made  amusing  attempts  at 
French,  of  which  she  did  know  a  little.  Mother  would 
have  none  of  the  ''gibberish." 

When  we  were  quite  domesticated  I  consulted 
several  surgeons,  who  examined  Mr.  Gaynor.  The 
limb,  they  thought,  had  not  been  rightly  set.  They 
would  not  say  it  could  be  altogether  remedied,  but  that 
it  could  be  greatly  improved,  though  the  process  would 
be  tedious,  and  perhaps  take  three  months. 

That  time  was  not  discouraging.  We  had  come  to 
the  merciful  period  of  anaesthesia,  so  the  conscious 
suffering  was  reduced.  He  decided  to  undertake  it. 
The  prospect  of  going  without  a  crutch  was  most 
tempting. 

During  that  period  mother,  Ruth  and  I  took  various 
delightful  journeys  about  the  environs  of  Paris.  It 
was  in  the  early  days  of  the  third  Napoleon  and  Paris 
was  very  brilliant.  Many  improvements  had  been 


THE  PASSING  OF  OLD  CHICAGO          313 

made,  and  my  two  guests  were  filled  with  amazement. 
There  was  so  much  beauty  on  every  hand. 

After  the  first  fortnight  we  were  allowed  to  see  Mr. 
Gaynor.  The  surgeon  admitted  that  it  had  been  a 
rather  serious  case,  and  the  operation  would  be  the 
means  of  prolonging  his  life,  which  could  not  have 
gone  on  much  longer  without  a  fatal  issue.  I  thanked 
Heaven  that  I  had  been  so  importunate.  After  ten 
weeks  the  patient  came  home.  He  was  not  to  give  up 
his  crutch  immediately,  but  he  could  bear  some  weight 
on  his  foot,  which  would  have  to  be  provided  with  a 
cork  soled  shoe,  as  his  leg  had  shortened  somewhat. 

I  was  quite  engrossed  with  Mr.  Le  Moyne's  business 
until  along  in  the  winter.  Then  we  went  to  Spain,  and 
saw  Madrid,  Granada  and  other  famous  cities;  the 
great  fortress  at  Gibraltar,  and  crossed  the  beautiful 
sea  to  the  Bay  of  Naples,  sojourned  a  brief  while  in 
Florence  and  Rome,  went  up  into  Switzerland,  Ger 
many,  Holland,  then  down  to  Paris  again,  where  I 
received  my  fortune.  And  kere  Ruth  and  I  were  mar 
ried  at  the  embassy,  with  many  friends  to  wish  us  God 
speed.  Mr.  Gaynor  was  a  very  happy  man.  He 
limped  a  little  and  used  a  cane,  but  could  get  about  so 
easily  that  he  declared  he  had  renewed  his  youth. 
Mother  was  delighted  and  admitted  that  she  had 
always  coveted  Ruth. 

Ah !  what  happy  days  those  were.  We  went  to  Eng 
land  and  her  two  tributaries.  Mother  declared  that  I 
kissed  the  Blarney  stone.  She  had  become  quite  a 
foreigner. 

How  would  we  ever  endure  Chicago  again? 


314        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

But  one  evening,  as  Ruth's  head  lay  on  my  shoulder, 
and  her  sweet  mouth  just  where  I  could  heap  kisses 
upon  it,  she  said: 

"Oh,  Norman,  I  would  like  to  go  home.  And  I 
know  father  is  longing  for  it.  Everything  is  beautiful, 
but  I  want  to  ramble  about  the  old  places.  I  want  to 
think  of  the  days  when  I  was  a  little  girl  and  see  the 
spot  where  I  first  came  to  you." 

Had  she  always  been  mine?  It  seemed  so  now. 
The  other  life  was  like  a  dream. 

Two  years  had  passed  away.  I  am  afraid  we  were 
a  little  disenchanted  at  first.  But  here  were  all  the  old 
friends — very  few  of  them  had  dropped  out  of  life. 
Brave  Jesse  Walker,  the  pioneer  Methodist  preacher, 
was  among  the  first  to  welcome  mother.  And  there 
was  Mr.  Porter,  whose  wife  had  been  our  earliest 
school  teacher,  two  or  three  of  the  ex-mayors,  Mr. 
Hubbard  and  the  Doles  of  my  boyhood  and  many 
another. 

The  town  had  not  stood  still.  But  the  most  wonder 
ful  thing  to  me  was  the  invincible  push  and  persever 
ance  and  industry,  the  resolve  to  establish  a  great  city 
on  those  foundation  stones,  not  ancestry,  not  mere  in 
tellectuality.  All  roads  should  lead  to  it  as  they  had 
to  old  Rome.  Some  were  started,  others  planned  and 
there  were  great  dreams.  It  seemed  queer  after  the 
finished  aspect  of  the  Old  World. 

The  Sontieffs  had  done  very  well  indeed.  Both 
wives  had  come,  a  somewhat  severe-looking  middle- 
aged  mother,  who  was  sweet  and  tender  at  heart,  a 
rather  pretty,  light-haired  young  wife  of  some  German 


THE  PASSING  OF  OLD  CHICAGO          315 

stock  a  generation  or  two  back,  and  two  very  foreign- 
looking  children,  such  as  we  had  seen  in  groups  in  the 
old  cities. 

The  men  had  been  informing  themselves  in  Ameri 
can  ways  and  methods.  They  would  go  farther  back 
and  buy  government  land.  Already  quite  a  colony  had 
been  formed  and  two  men  had  been  sent  out  prospect 
ing.  It  was  to  be  not  far  from  the  great  canal,  but 
now  railroads  were  being  planned.  California  had 
given  an  impetus  to  us.  The  Pacific  was  to  be  our 
western  boundary.  We  would  not  even  stop  at  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  have  not  those  brilliant  dreams 
been  fulfilled?  Has  Chicago  proved  herself  a  mere 
braggart  ? 

Young  John  Gaynor  was  a  man  grown,  and  as  we 
found  soon  afterward,  had  a  sweetheart,  a  fine  sturdy, 
honest-looking  young  fellow  with  the  breezy  voice  one 
insensibly  acquires  when  the  spaces  are  wide. 

Homer  suggested  father  very  strongly  to  me.  He 
was  building,  buying  and  selling,  preferring  the  nimble 
sixpence  to  the  slow  shilling.  They  had  a  new  little 
girl,  and  they  called  her  Bessy.  Sophie  was  stout  and 
energetic,  a  lovely  mother.  Nanette  had  a  little  family 
also,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  population  had  increased 
rapidly. 

Ben  had  one  year  more  in  the  law  school.  He  was 
coming  back  to  Chicago. 

"I  want  a  place  to  draw  a  good  long  breath,"  he 
said.  "Out  here  there  is  room  for  new  States  and  cities, 
and  a  man  can  forge  up  to  the  head  sooner.  It  makes 
me  laugh  to  hear  those  Eastern  people  talk.  They 


316         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

think  they  have  it  all.  Some  day  they  will  wake  up 
mightily  surprised." 

Chris  was  doing  well  and  growing  really  handsome 
in  a  more  spiritual  fashion  than  any  of  the  other  of  us 
boys.  He  was  mother's  darling,  after  all. 

It  was  about  autumn  before  we  were  truly  settled. 
Mother  was  to  remain  with  us.  The  house  was  en 
larged  a  little  and  renovated,  and  partly  new  furnished. 
Mother  had  her  furniture  in  her  two  rooms,  she  fan 
cied  she  might  like  to  keep  house  by  herself,  but  she 
never  did. 

Certainly  there  was  not  a  happier  man  in  Chicago 
than  John  Gay  nor,  unless  it  was  myself.  He  trotted 
about  inspecting  the  new  elevators,  the  new  vessels, 
gathering  statistics,  as  if  he  were  a  newspaper  reporter. 
He  had  not  given  up  what  he  called  his  scribbling 
habit,  and  his  delight  was  to  draw  comparisons  with 
the  peasantry  of  the  Old  World  and  the  New  World 
that  had  no  peasantry. 

That  Christmas  morning  a  new  little  girl  came  to 
Chicago.  The  other  little  girl  was  only  a  memory 
now,  just  as  Old  Chicago  was  fast  becoming  a 
memory.  But  you  often  heard  a  group  of  men  ex 
changing  old  reminiscences  of  the  time  they  first 
came  in  the  early  thirties,  with  a  small  amount  of 
money  on  hand,  some  none  at  all,  going  to  work  with 
hearty  good  will. 

John  Gaynor  had  thought  nothing  could  make  him 
happier  than  the  return  to  his  native  land,  but  I  think 
his  cup  ran  over  that  Christmas  morning. 

There  came  now  and  then  an  unfortunate  year,  per- 


THE   PASSING  OF  OLD  CHICAGO          317 

haps  that  is  not  the  term,  a  less  fortunate  year,  but 
Chicago  travelled  on  at  her  steady  pace.  West  of  us 
were  growing  up  other  great  States,  other  cities, 
crowds  of  people  coming  to  be  fed  and  housed  and 
finding  room  to  grow  broad  not  only  in  physique,  but 
in  mind  and  endeavor.  So  we  travelled  over  in  the 
sixties,  when  there  were  ominous  clouds  gathering  and 
there  was  a  larger  question  to  struggle  for  than  bread 
and  shelter. 

John  Gaynor  went  on  adding  field  to  field.  I 
laughed  at  him  for  a  mania.  "Ground  is  a  good 
enough  investment  for  me,"  he  would  say.  "Thieves 
can't  steal  it  and  fire  can't  burn  it  up."  But  Homer 
and  I  were  joining  forces  in  building  stores  and  ware 
houses.  For  now  we  were  connected  with  most  of  the 
country  with  railroads.  How  could  we  have  brought 
in  the  grain  in  ox-carts? 

Then  followed  the  four  years  of  the  terrible  Civil 
War.  Ben,  just  getting  nicely  established,  threw  up 
his  business  and  went  in  the  army  with  hundreds  of 
promising  young  men.  The  city  did  its  share  nobly. 
Some  came  back  and  took  their  olden  places,  some 
were  invalided,  and  many  a  home  was  left  vacant. 

John  Gaynor  returned  and  made  another  stalwart 
plunge  in  newspaper  life.  Ben  opened  a  new  office  and 
went  on  to  realize  his  dreams.  For  now  Chicago  again 
swept  on  with  giant  strides.  Did  any  one  raise  pigs 
and  chickens  in  the  space  about  the  house,  or  even 
garden  truck  ?  We  raised  our  town  step  by  step.  There 
were  miles  of  paved  streets,  and  all  the  modern  im 
provements.  The  log  houses  vanished.  Stone  and 
marble  came  in  and  great  buildings  were  reared. 


318        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

We  were  swept  onward  too,  business  overtook  the 
old  home  like  a  great  wave,  and  we  went  further 
up  the  lake  front  and  modernized  ourselves.  Since  cur 
Paris  sojourn  mother  had  taken  kindly  to  improve 
ments.  Homer's  sons  and  daughters  were  growing 
up.  Ruth  was  married,  John  Gay  nor  and  his  sweet 
heart  had  a  family  clustering  about  them.  Ben  was 
thriving,  had  captured  one  or  two  excellent  positions. 
Chris  had  gone  westward,  a  very  earnest  pioneer 
worker,  and  we  looked  sometime  to  see  him  made  a 
bishop. 

Those  were  happy  years.  We  had  a  little  flock  of 
four,  and  though  grandfather  was  proud  of  the  sturdy 
boys,  baby  Ruth,  the  first  born,  was,  I  think,  the  dearest 
of  all  to  him.  The  last  darling  was  Bess.  They  would 
always  be  family  names. 

We  had  had  one  other  tremendous  flood  to  sub 
merge  a  part  of  the  city.  Then  great  pains  had  been 
taken  to  protect  us  from  the  overflow  of  the  lake. 
We  studied  security  more  than  money.  When  we 
looked  at  the  splendid  buildings  did  we  ever  say 
to  ourselves:  "This  is  the  great  Babylon  we  have 
builded!" 

There  had  been  a  long,  dry  hot  spell.  Late  corn  had 
withered  and  scorched  up  before  ripening.  Winter 
wheat  was  parched.  Our  pretty  flower  garden  was 
watered  assiduously,  and  the  lawn,  but  the  blossoms 
drooped,  the  grass  turned  brown.  What  sweltering 
days  they  were  those  September  days,  with  the  glow 
ing,  pitiless  sun  that  set  in  a  bed  of  flames  that  scorched 
up  the  kindly  dews.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  there  was  any 


THE  PASSING  OF  OLD  CHICAGO          319 

moisture  left  in  the  lake.  What  would  we  have  done 
without  our  splendid  water-works! 

Then  October  came  in.  We  had  talked  of  a  journey 
up  in  Michigan  for  a  little  relief,  but  fortunately  we 
had  not  gone. 

There  came  up  a  strong  southwest  breeze  and  we 
took  courage,  although  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the 
sky.  "But  it  must  rain  presently,"  we  all  said. 

Sitting  there  on  the  porch,  which  was  quite  a  high 
one,  we  saw  the  spires  of  flame  shooting  up  skyward. 
It  was  so  far  away  that  we  only  looked  and  com 
mented.  Whether  it  was  the  unfortunate  kick  of  Mrs. 
O'Leary's  cow  that  sent  the  lighted  lamp  over  in  the 
hay,  as  is  the  commonly  received  version,  or  some 
other  fatal  incident,  the  fire  broke  out  in  a  crowded 
portion  of  the  city,  where  old  rookeries  abounded, 
always  a  menace.  One  almost  felt  it  would  safeguard 
the  city  to  have  them  burn  down,  and  burn  they  did. 
Whether  any  more  vigorous  work  or  alarm  could  have 
prevented  the  spread  no  one  could  decide  afterward. 

But  by  midnight  the  conflagration  was  overwhelm 
ing.  Fire  and  wind  swept  in  wild  fury.  It  came 
northward  in  two  grand,  separate  columns,  tossing  its 
firebrands  to  the  right  and  the  left,  and  then  it  made 
a  mighty  sweep  over  the  river.  Was  there  ever  any 
thing  like  it  for  sublimity  and  terror?  The  brute 
creation  was  crazed.  Horses  ran  wildly  about,  roared 
and  kicked,  the  air  was  filled  with  cries  and  screams 
of  maddened  people.  On  and  on  it  flew,  whirling  great 
masses  of  flame  from  one  point  to  another.  Grand 
hotels,  warehouses,  stored  full  of  valuables,  the  Cham- 


320        A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

her  of  Commerce,  the  banks,  the  great  shopping  palace 
of  Fields,  Leiter  &  Co. — it  was  no  respecter  of  persons. 

We  had  sent  the  two  smaller  children  to  bed  tired 
out,  but  we  could  not  go,  fascinated  with  terror.  I  knew 
a  great  part  of  my  investments  were  swallowed  up — 
that  Homer  would  lose  much  of  the  work  of  his  life. 
This  way  and  that  it  dashed.  Stone  and  marble 
crumbled  and  went  down.  There  had  been  the  burn 
ing  Rome  and  Alexander's  orgie  at  Persepolis — were 
they  to  be  compared  to  this? 

We  had  thought  ourselves  safe,  but  the  demon  flew 
on  and  on.  Nothing  could  withstand  him.  We  began 
to  pick  up  our  valuables  and  load  whatever  wagons  we 
had  and  send  them  out  toward  Lincoln  Park.  The 
streets  were  full  of  crying,  shrieking,  homeless  people. 
And  when  it  came  nearer,  nearer,  we,  too,  joined  the 
throng,  but  we  were  all  safe  together  and  made  our 
way  out  where  the  air  was  not  quite  so  dense  with 
smoke,  and  at  length  dropped  on  the  brown,  shrivelled 
grass,  and  clasped  our  arms  about  each  other. 

It  has  been  written  over  many  times,  the  loss  and 
ruin,  the  indomitable  energy  of  the  people,  the  suffer 
ing  and  the  courage,  the  heartiness  with  which  every 
one  set  about  mending  his  broken  fortunes  and  help 
ing  his  neighbors.  Safes  and  money  had  perished. 
But  the  grand  spontaneous  outburst  of  sympathy,  the 
proffers  of  help  from  other  cities  was  cheering  in  the 
extreme.  With  one  voice  they  said,  and  we  said, 
Chicago  must  be  rebuilt  in  a  better  and  more  enduring 
shape.  It  is  true  that  many  solid  structures  had  gone 
with  the  flimsy  ones. 


THE  PASSING  OF  OLD  CHICAGO          321 

There  was  no  more  Old  Chicago.  And  the  Little 
Girl  had  come  to  middle  life,  but  her  eyes  had  the  old 
light,  her  lips  were  soft  and  sweet  as  she  kissed  me 
that  morning  in  the  midst  of  our  desolation. 

"We  have  each  other,"  she  said,  "and  our  children 
and  father  and  mother." 

Are  some  people  "born  for  luck?"  as  the  saying  is. 
If  so,  surely  John  Gaynor  was.  He  had  sold  his  sum 
mer  crops  and  a  good  part  of  his  corn,  and  the  day 
the  money  was  paid  him  turned  it  over  on  a  new  pur 
chase  of  prairie  land  he  had  made.  If  it  had  been  in 
the  bank  it  would  have  gone  to  feed  the  flames. 

"I  told  you  land  wouldn't  burn  up,"  he  said.  "We 
have  the  sure  promise  until  the  last  great  conflagra 
tion." 

But  my  row  of  stores  and  buildings  were  gone.  I 
was  a  poor  man  and  must  begin  the  struggle  with 
business  again,  if  one  could  find  anything  to  do  in  such 
devastation.  Homer  had  fared  better.  Mother  and 
Ruth  and  the  children  accepted  their  hospitality  for  the 
winter. 

John  Gaynor  was  near  seventy,  but  brisk  and  hearty 
and  helpful,  hopeful,  too,  I  ought  to  say.  He  would 
have  enough  to  start  the  four  children  in  life.  Why 
should  I  worry  about  them? 

How  Chicago  arose  from  its  ashes,  stronger,  more 
magnificent,  more  durable,  and  still  kept  stretching  out 
its  thews  and  sinews  in  every  direction  is  a  matter  long 
since  gone  into  history.  Banks,  hotels,  public  build 
ings  and  stores  could  be  restored  in  a  more  durable 
manner,  streets  widened  and  improved,  parks  and 


3«         A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

squares  added,  but  many  things  could  not  be  replaced. 
The  grand  collection  of  the  Historical  Society,  and  the 
great  Emancipation  Proclamation,  next  to  the  Declara 
tion  of  Independence,  the  Chicago  Library,  with  books 
and  archives,  and  engravings  of  old  houses  and  old 
streets,  even  then  forgotten  by  many,  with  other  valua 
ble  articles  that  could  not  be  duplicated.  Truly,  Old 
Chicago  had  been  swept  away. 

Did  we  sit  down  and  weep  over  the  vast  ruin  such  as 
had  never  befallen  any  city?  There  were  starving 
women  and  children  to  have  food  and  shelter,  and 
those  who  had  shared  joyfully  with  these.  All  that 
was  best  and  noblest  and  broadest  in  humanity  came 
out  then.  The  kindliness,  the  pluck  and  the  courage 
was  something  wonderful  amid  all  that  destitution  and 
desolation. 

Like  a  romance  Chicago  rose  from  her  ruins  and 
ashes  to  be  grander  than  any  one  had  dreamed,  and 
her  men  again  worked  their  way  up  to  prosperity  with 
indomitable  energy.  Homer  lost  less  than  I,  but  it  was 
enough  to  make  us  poor  men.  John  Gaynor  started 
in  afresh  with  his  paper  with  cheery  Yankee  spirit. 
Ben's  stock  was  largely  ambitions,  and  he  lived  to 
realize  upon  them. 

I  prospered  to  some  extent  afterward  and  we  had  a 
happy  time.  We  went  out  of  our  own  city  by  railroad 
to  San  Francisco.  We  went  up  to  Oregon,  south  to 
famous  cities.  We  were  the  centre  of  the  country,  we 
were  the  granary  of  the  West,  the  East.  We  helped  to 
feed  the  starving  nations  of  Europe,  that  less  than 
sixty  years  before  had  believed  us  an  uncouth,  half- 


THE  PASSING  OF  OLD  CHICAGO          323 

Indian  people  and  doubted  if  any  good  could  come  out 
of  Nazareth.  It  was  done  by  persevering  industry,  by 
largeness  of  aim,  by  sterling  integrity,  by  the  great  love 
of  every  citizen  for  his  native  city,  and  the  desire  to  see 
her  stand  in  the  front  rank. 

We  built  our  new  house  near  the  lake  front  again. 
Little  Ruth  married  when  she  was  barely  seventeen, 
and  John  Gaynor  lived  to  hold  his  great-grandson  in 
his  arms.  A  cheerful,  happy  man,  going  down  the 
great  decline  peaceful  and  content,  followed  not  long 
after  by  mother,  who  was  sometimes  afraid  she  had 
had  too  many  of  the  good  things  in  this  life,  but  she 
had  always  been  pitiful  to  the  Lazarus  at  the  gate  and 
not  left  him  to  be  nursed  by  dogs. 

When  Chicago  reared  the  magnificent  White  City, 
the  like  of  which  no  one  had  yet  attempted,  we  were  in 
the  older  generation  with  our  grandchildren  about  us. 
They  never  tire  of  hearing  how  grandmamma  travelled 
from  Massachusetts  in  a  big  country  wagon,  with  all 
the  household  goods  they  could  carry,  crossing  New 
York  and  Ohio,  stopping  by  the  way  to  catch  fish  or 
shoot  game  and  cooking  by  the  wayside  in  a  stone 
fireplace,  sleeping  in  the  wagon,  sometimes  roused  by 
wild  animals,  occasionally  meeting  Indians,  and  at  last 
reaching  Chicago  and  grandpapa.  It  is  better  than  the 
best  of  their  gilded  and  engraved  fairy  books. 

What  days  we  spent  in  the  White  City  inspecting 
the  treasures  of  our  own  and  other  countries !  What 
a  wonder  electricity  and  the  telephone  was,  and  a  hun 
dred  other  things.  And  the  great  city  stretching  out 
along  the  lake,  southward,  westward,  northward,  its 


324          A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  CHICAGO 

railroads  running  swiftly  to  and  fro,  its  streets  a  busy 
hive  of  the  industry  that  has  made  her  famous. 

The  trolleys  go  everywhere  and  at  times  we  ramble 
in  them  or  out  of  them.  Here  is  old  Fort  Dearborn 
with  the  tablet  to  mark  its  memory.  Did  we  loiter 
about  it  and  sit  on  the  steps  and  recapitulate  the 
massacre?  And  here  was  the  old  Kinzie  house,  where 
the  San  Domingo  trader  had  his  cabin,  and  hore  the 
first  school  I  went  to,  here  the  old  Towner  log  cabin 
where  the  Little  Girl  lived,  and  I  used  to  come  in  and 
help  her  get  supper,  and  we  read  that  dear,  delightful, 
stirring  "Lady  of  the  Lake."  Here  we  went  to  Sun 
day  School  and  walked  home  together.  But  dearest  of 
all  is  the  old  house  where  we  five  boys  were  born  and 
brought  up,  because  here  I  first  saw  the  Little  Girl  as 
her  father  lifted  her  out  of  the  wagon  and  I  glanced 
into  her  sapphire  blue  eyes  and  loved  her  forever  after. 

None  of  them  are  there.  We  look  at  them  through 
the  wizard  glass  of  memory.  There  is  no  more  Little 
Girl,  there  is  no  more  Old  Chicago. 

Then  we  kiss  each  other  and  go  our  way.  We  have 
lived  and  loved. 


THE  END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


DUE  2  WKS  FROM 
'D  LD-URL 


APR  1  7  1991 


1991 


SATE  RECEIVED 


Form  L9-25m-9,'47(A5618)444 


PS      Douglas  - 
1549     A  little  girl 
D745  Ic in  old  Chicago 


000035769 


PS 
1549 
D745  Ic 


